


Honor's Demands

by Cyberra, gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, Knights of Light, M/M, Rape Recovery, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 198,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberra/pseuds/Cyberra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knights of Light.<br/>Drift saves a life.  He has no idea what he's just set off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking with Purpose

Awareness came slowly, the integration and realization of each new system coming online for the first time registering as fact. If the individual experiencing it had anything to compare it to he might have labeled it as odd. Possibly even disconcerting.

But there was nothing to compare it to yet, so it was simply allowed to continue unimpeded.

Before anything else it was aware of its purpose. It's _function_ , as its _processor_ supplied the proper term.

It -he- was created to serve. And not just to serve, but to serve completely. To meet every need, want, and desire of the mech -- mech? -- he had been created for.

Other components of his programming came online, integrating and linking with the rest of his systems. Readings that really meant nothing to the mech who was receiving them continued to come back to him, only falling into what his programming told him was acceptable levels.

Something more- the terms for what he was experiencing being supplied by base files and coding.

Touch.

Sound.

Sight.

Blue optics came online to a very new world.

A tall, slender creature -- a mech -- of deep red with golden glyphs stood to one side. His face was calm.

"Welcome to the functioning. Do you know your designation?"

The one in question paused, already instinctively wanting to please and knowing that a correct answer would fulfill that need. Base coding provided the meaning of the question, and the answer as well.

"Windswept."

"Welcome to Cybertron, Windswept," the Priest smiled down at him and offered a slender hand to assist Windswept to stand for the first time. "Your custodian is ready to take you to your new home."

Windswept took the offered hand, rising smoothly to his pedes and pausing to look around once he was steady. Programming told him that he was safe for the moment, safe with this mech and safe in this room.

He wasn't entirely sure where he was, only that it was good. Accessing files, a new exercise for him, he looked. His purpose was to serve. He wanted to serve. And that meant leaving this safety.

"I am ready."

The priest smiled and guided him from the room, not once trying to remove his hand from the newly sparked mech's. In the chamber outside the first one an elegant white and green mech stood with an aura of infinite patience and cool professionalism.

"Windswept, this is Trajectory. He will be your custodian until you reach your new home," the priest explained and gently encouraged Windswept to go to the new mech.

Windswept moved obediently to stand before the new mech, head tilted at a slight angle as he studied his keeper openly and without fear. A head taller than Windswept in height, but lighter in mass, Trajectory was of very high quality construction.

No one had done anything to discourage him from learning, and this was just another new thing to be inspected and integrated into his function. Programming told him that this mech was safe enough as well.

When the new mech's medium blue optics focused on him that same programming pushed his frame into the proper response, presenting himself for inspection, his head bowing respectfully as he stood straight and silent. The light tingle of a scan washed over him as Trajectory walked purposefully around him in a slow circuit.

"Good, it seems your spark has integrated properly," Trajectory said, content with the newly sparked mech. He turned and bowed to the priest before placing a hand on Windswept's shoulder. "Come, Windswept. Drift has traveled far while you were constructed and approved of."

Content with the fact that he had pleased the mech he was answering to in the moment, Windswept allowed himself to be led along peacefully. His processor was working the whole time though, and finally he dared a quiet question. "Drift?"

"The mech you were commissioned to serve, and I was tasked with finding and delivering you to," Trajectory answered easily as they left the temple and entered the brightly lit streets of a rebuilt Iacon. "Datafile 45732.906723 and its linked files should contain what we know of him."

Windswept immediately accessed the files, curious to know who it was that his programming was already urging him to seek and serve as he was created to. The image files made his spark pulse quicken and many parts of his frame tingle with an extra charge.

"Arousal," Trajectory told him before transforming. "A good thing as you will serve him in the berth."

Windswept paused, studying what the mech had just done, and quickly finding the appropriate file that allowed him to do the same, concentrating very hard as he _transformed_ for the first time.

It was not unpleasant, as it was something he was clearly meant to do, parts of himself folding and rearranging into his alt mode. Smaller than his companion, and sturdy. A grounder design clearly intended to cover any sort of terrain it encountered, and to do so swiftly.

Curious, Windswept pushed his engine, feeling the vibration rumble through his frame as he held his place.

A ping came to a new system, quickly identified as his comm. He fumbled a bit as he found the correct protocols, then opened the requested channel.

::Good. You are learning quickly. We are going to the spaceport where my ship is ready to depart. There will be time to explore your frame and files fully once we launch.::

::Apologies,:: Windswept offered instantly, his entire frame sinking in submission momentarily. ::I will follow.::

A small databurst worked through his processors as they pulled into traffic, but his attention was drawn first to why his lights were all blinking.

::You are new to the road. It is a visual warning to more experienced mecha that they should give you extra leeway. Your transponder tells them the same. The lights will no longer be automatic when you have driven one hundred and twenty four joors. The transponder after one thousand and ninety six.::

Windswept found himself very thankful for that fact. He rather felt like he was on display, even after being informed that this was something that _everyone_ experienced when they were new to functioning.

After a little while, when he was more comfortable, he turned some of his attention to the information he had been sent. ::So I was wrong in apologizing?:: He finally asked.

::It was unnecessary,:: Trajectory confirmed as well as shaded the level of the mistake. ::Drift values strength and competency above all else. While he will expect you to submit to his wishes, he will not be pleased by an apology he has not demanded. It is a distinction we will spend time working to accustom you to.::

::Thank you.:: The thanks was made from the deepest parts of Windswept's spark, driven by his coding and his own personal nature.

Conversation stopped then, as the newly onlined mech's complete attention was demanded by the increasing traffic around the spaceport. Even with other travelers being careful to give him extra consideration and his keeper leading the way, giving him plenty of notice of turns and exits, it was difficult to navigate. Trajectory led them into a lighter traffic area with many small ships docked in towers before transforming to walk inside of one.

They passed smoothly between mecha and a few organics of various sizes and shapes to pause at a desk where Trajectory spoke quietly with the mech on duty there.

Windswept watched with open interest as the mech behind the desk cross-referenced the information he was being given with what was stored in his terminal. After a very short time he nodded at Trajectory, informing him of his slot in the departure queue and wishing him safe travel to his destination.

Their business complete, Windswept made sure stayed on his keepers heels as he was led into the dock proper. It absolutely bustled with activity, but of a very different kind from before. Here were mecha and robots doing their _function_ ; repairing ships, fueling and supplying them, checking for damage and all manner of activities that had them move with purpose and precision.

Through it all Trajectory moved with similar purpose, but never so fast for his charge to be rushed in experiencing his first orn of existence. Despite his ship being halfway across the complex, they never transformed to drive there. It gave Windswept plenty of time to get used to reading and matching transponders to mecha, robots, vehicles and organics.

It was even enough time to begin to match the additional data of intended movement and action with some of the transponders, particularly of the robots.

"If you continue to enjoy learning, a mecha can spend their entire existence, even one as long as Alpha Trion or Kup's, learning by observing the universe around them," Trajectory spoke as his own transponder, tuned to send extra data to Windswept, indicated the vessel they were going to. "Drift is not a scholar, but that does not mean you will ever need to stop learning by observation. He does value practical knowledge and the skill of _noticing_ the environment."

Windswept nodded in understanding, filing that away to contemplate once they were on the ship, the initial connections, thoughts, and conclusions it was leading him to proving to be very interesting and far too distracting in the moment.

He was enjoying integrating the world around him, and being encouraged to do so just fueled the flames. If his new master would let him function as this, looking-seeing-serving, he was sure he would always be content.

A short falter in his step as he observed two mecha with raised voices, one of the waving expressively at something on a shuttle that they were not agreeing on. He glanced at Trajectory, curious to see what his keeper would make of their actions.

::A minor disagreement,:: he explained. ::You will find that, and much more aggressive versions of it, to be a common sight around Drift. He is a warrior. Violence is his first language, though he has been socialized to an extent.::

::He will inform me of how I should act when something does happen?:: Windswept inquired as they reached Trajectory's ship. Even with only a rudimentary understanding of such things it seemed large enough for dozens of mecha to be comfortable inside.

::Yes,:: Trajectory answered easily as he pinged the ship to open and drop it's passenger ramp for them. "In general, you will want to stay out of the way in any fighting. In a situation like that, simply watch and learn. If you see someone come up to attack him from behind, alert him. This is my ship, the Enquirer. Crew of six with passenger space for four more."

Windswept straightened slightly, attention focused on his surroundings once more as they walked up the ramp. He could feel the faint hum of the ship around him, letting that settle in with ease.

It seemed that he had a great deal to learn just about learning.

"It will become easier with time," Trajectory offered him a faint smile as the hatch closed and locked behind them. "Would you like to watch the launch from the cockpit?"

Eager light appeared in Windswept's soft blue optics. "I would like that very much, of you will allow it." There was something about the idea of flying that he found exciting.

"I would not have offered if I was not going to permit it," Trajectory told him with a trill that mixed amusement and tolerance as he guided the new mech forward in the ship. "Others may not be so kind," he admitted as they passed through a narrow corridor with several doors leading off to each side. He databurst Windswept the floor plan of the ship, including notes as to which rooms to not go into and why.

It was then that the newly sparked mech realized why the crew was so much smaller than he'd expected. Nearly half the ship was dedicated to its engines, and more than half the remaining space was dedicated to stores of energon and supplies.

Curious, and with the time to devote to such things at the moment, Windswept started searching through his files for reasons as to the ships design and it's function.

"How long will the trip be?" He asked as they entered the cockpit, the blue mech automatically scanning for a place where he would be out of the way but still be able to see everything. The ID auto-pings identified the white and gold mech as the pilot, designation Slipwarp, while the deep blue one was the co-pilot/navigator, designation Starswept.

"If Drift does not depart from his current location we will be there within two decacycles," Slipwarp answered without looking up from his physical check of the systems he was also hardlined into by several cables. "If he does leave, it'll take longer."

"The Enquirer is notably faster than his vessel," Trajectory added as he guided Windswept to a spot where he could see what was going on and what would be a grand view out of the cockpit window without disturbing anyone. "Still, it could take upwards of six decacycles if he makes few stops and travels at near his top speed. You will have plenty of time to learn all you need to before being presented to him. There are two specialists on board to assist you with integrating the datafiles and protocols into your functioning."

Attention centered on Trajectory, Windswept's surprise clear. Two specialists? Even with his limited understanding that seemed excessive.

He knew that he had been created as a gift. A servant. All of his programming, his coding, his very _spark_ was content with that idea.

The white and green mech chuckled as the preparation for launch continued. "It was more economical to have two this time. Since you will be out of civilized contact once you are presented to Drift it was deemed necessary for you to be more prepared than most. Most servants spend their early vorns, if not all their vorns, on Cybertron or one of the colonies where it is easy to acquire training if needed. Drift is unlikely to give you many such opportunities. He seems to rarely stay in one place long."

"I understand." He would do his best to learn all that they could teach him in the time he was with them then, that he might best please his new master.

A change in the sound of the engines caught and held his attention once more, the motion that came with the sound explaining the difference. Without understanding why Windswept found his excitement growing as they started to move upwards, stopping a couple mech-heights over the floor before gliding forward.

Windswept's vents stalled as the glittering expanse of rebuilt Iacon at dusk spread out before them.

Files supplied him with information, how it came to the way it was now, what had happened in the past. Important landmarks glowed in his vision, including the temple that he knew he had emerged from earlier that orn. The temple where his very functioning had begun; where every mech sparked in Iacon came from.

Something in the history files nagged him and he risked that Trajectory would not mind answering, even with others present. "If all mechs are sparked, why were they all not taken care of before the Great War?"

The tension in the cockpit shot up. Slipwarp and Starswept's engines both growled and their fields erupted with negative energy before they controlled themselves.

A soft vent escaped Trajectory before he responded. "Sparks were cheap. The Prime did not control his priests well and wealthy mecha took advantage of it. For a fee and the cost of a frame, you could get any frame sparked, no questions asked. Many sparks were called that were ill-suited to their function. Many mecha were discarded to fend for themselves when it became cheaper to get a new worker sparked than to repair or maintain the existing one."

Windswept cringed, the hostility something else new to his systems and not pleasant in the least. A brief flash of fear, another new feeling that he did not like at all, that he could be discarded as easily if he did not please. Still..."They grew angry?"

"We functioned through that, though being discarded," Slipwarp explained, his tone gentling as he calmed down. "There are a _lot_ of bad memories associated with before the war and the war itself."

"Things have changed though." Windswept said quietly, feeling a little more equal with the pilots than he did with Trajectory. And wanting to be sure that this was a different time than what the limited history files he had access to at the moment spoke of.

"Yes, they have changed greatly," Starswept confirmed. "Optimus Prime cracked down on the priesthood and the production managers after he was revived. The war ended enough lives that there is work for everyone who wants it. Like the war, it's still very much part of living memory."

"I...think I understand." Windswept murmured, the unpleasant side of the world he had been brought into coming into focus as he looked over Iacon, watching as the city began to fall away beneath them. Suddenly the dark areas took on new meaning; sparks lost, entire trades destroyed, priceless history and culture obliterated.

"It's difficult to understand for most," Trajectory reassured him as space enveloped the ship. "Politics on an imperial level are treacherous even for those sparked for it."

Windswept hummed, not yet knowledgeable enough to find an answer to that statement, even if one existed. He comforted himself with the though that from what little he knew of his new master, politics if that nature were something that he would not be called upon to face often.

When the blackness of space was broken only by stars streaking by Trajectory turned to leave and motioned his charge to follow. "It's time to meet your tutors and begin your education."


	2. Meeting Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Windswept finds the mech he was created for, and is immediately smitten. Drift ... is more annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing** : Drift/Windswept/Fellfall/Skyrush  
>  **Rating** : NC-17 mech/mech/femme/femme  
> 

The hustle and bustle all around him no longer disturbed or distracted Windswept in the least. Spaceport markets like this had become commonplace for him during the journey in search of his new master.

Trajectory and the trainers had done their best to prepare the new blue mech for anything that he might encounter during his travels with Drift, so he had been drug through every spaceport they had stopped at along the way until there was little that Windswept had not seen. His other lessons, most of which consisted of 'start with this and let him tell you otherwise', had been easy to absorb.

A minor repair accident had pulled his medical files to the forefront for a short time, and proved that Windswept was both capable and able to put them to use. The same with the domestic files he had been sparked with, Trajectory simply making it a daily exercise for Windswept to follow the other mech around and learn to anticipate his needs before an order was given.

While Windswept understood that the needs of his new master, the mech they were approaching even now, would be far different from the mech he had trained with, the specifics would be easy to alter now that he had the basic framework to fit them to.

Still, a shiver of mixed excitement and apprehension ran through him as he took the offered moment to study his soon to be master as the other mech ignored them, deep in negotiating a deal with a stubborn merchant. It gave Windswept time to really take in the exotic sweeps of pristine white armor, the unusual design, the Great Sword secured proudly to Drift's back, the smooth way the white mech moved.

It wasn't long before the debate finished, credits and good changed hands to be subspaced before Drift turned to face Trajectory. 

While they took a few steps away from the stall to speak, Windswept felt his intakes catch at the _beauty_ of his master. His internal temperature began to rise as his processors fixated on having strong black hands touching him,on that deep voice giving him orders, on the spike he'd seen only a single capture of inside him.

If this was who he was going to be in service to for the rest of his functioning... Windswept offered a prayer to Primus that somewhere in this mech was beauty that matched the outside. That before him was truly a perfect functioning.

He stepped closer, still behind Trajectory but as close to the white mech as he could get before he was officially handed over. He was barely aware of the glances Drift continued to send his way, but the deepening scowl registered. That wasn't a good thing. Yet it wasn't directed at him, which was good.

A few more words were exchanged and Drifts scowl turned to an outright snarl, but the wished-for words happened.

"I accept then," Drift's growl and visible frustration was openly directed at Trajectory, but the smaller mech didn't seem bothered by it as he handed over a simple box that was subspaced with the rest of what Drift had collected.

"You are Drift's now," Trajectory turned to tell Windswept before calmly walking off, leaving the pair to sort themselves out.

Windswept allowed his optics to travel once more over the mech that was now his master before focusing on the ground in submission, waiting for orders.

A low grumble and x-vent escaped Drift before he motioned for the smaller mech to follow him and spoke. "Come on, Windswept. It seems we'll be in port for a while longer."

"Yes sir." Windswept nodded, relaxing some as moved to follow the mech, relieved that he had not been rejected after Drift had accepted him.

Drift remained completely silent as they walked towards short-term docking, but as Windswept followed a respectful step behind him, he felt Drift's field reached out to his lightly. It was just enough contact to establish their respective states for the other. Windswept's arousal, submission and fixation. Drift's mixture of disgust, frustration and resignation.

It wasn't until they were inside Drift's largely self-maintained single-mecha ship that the white mech spoke again. "I'm not going to hold you to that noble's contract."

Windswept stared at him, just keeping a handle on the fear that threatened him. His optics locked on Drift, bright and swirling with emotion. "But I was created to serve you."

"Wing, Wing, what _have_ you done to me?" Drift sighed, covering his face with one hand as he shook his helm. "Let's try that again," he met Windswept's optics. " _I_ am not going to hold you to what you were created to do. When you figure out what you want in functioning that isn't following me around, you can go do that. Until then, I'm sure you'll earn your keep," he made a vague motion around the ship. "It'll be a tight fit for a while. I don't usually take on passengers."

"I will stay out of your way." Windswept promised, confused and a little terrified at the idea that he might end up with a function different than the one that he had been sparked and trained for.

He didn't _want_ any other function. With that set firmly in his processor Windswept formed a plan. He would stay out of Drifts way, but he would also figure out a way to make himself indispensable to his new master. He would find a way so that Drift would _want_ him to stay.

The white mech nodded, considering his new companion. Without warning he stepped fully into Windswept's personal space, meshing their fields with a speed and skill that startled the young mech. But in Drift's field was arousal matching Windswept's as he stepped the smaller mech against the wall and trapped him there with both arms, hands against the wall.

"For now though, is it just me, or do you get hot for most mecha?"

"Just for you. Only for you." Windswept murmured, his field reaching out, foreshadowing of the offer being made as he leaned into the touch. "I was created for you. To serve you. To please you however I may."

Windswept moaned as Drift's mouth crushed against his and their chassis pressed close to rub with delicious friction.

"I am yours," Windswept shivered as those lip plates trailed along his jaw and nip at his throat cabling.

"I've never been one to ignore desire," Drift rumbled, shifting to support his weight on his pedes again to free his hands to explore. "Or a willing 'face."

"Whatever you wish of me." Windswept murmured, his own kisses light and learning but full of the desire that was flooding through him. Desire and joy at being wanted, or at least for the moment accepted, by the beautiful mech that had him pinned to the wall.

He would do anything to stay there, sure that this was where he belonged. His frame moved into the touches, soft whimpers of pleading and encouragement escaping him. Drift's first touch between his legs, a light scrape along the length of his forward valve cover, drew a long, wanting moan and tremble from Windswept as it snapped open, arousal evident in the heat radiating from the smaller mech and the slickness pooling at the platelets around his valve.

"You are _hot_ ," Drift moaned against his audio as his spike auto-released in anticipation of such a willing valve that he pressed two fingers into first. His field encouraged and rewarded Windswept's exploratory touches and kisses, rolling pleasure into Windswept's frame as tactile sensors were set off.

Windswept grew bolder, taking the encouragement and running with it as he kissed at neck cables, fingers dipping into armor and joint seams searching for ways to please. He had been informed of his new master's known interfacing preferences, that while submission was expected, participation was enjoyed. He wanted his master to be pleased with him and with what Windswept had to offer.

The two strong fingers inside him lit up sensors that had never been touched before, sending jolts of pleasure up Windswept's spinal strut and triggered calipers and cables around the valve to contract around the intrusion.

He clung to Drift for a moment, collecting himself and reconciling what he was actually feeling with what he had been expecting. This was ... a quiver ran the entire length of his frame as he moaned and pressed against Drift, field begging for more.

"Never been taken before?" Drift's voice was a rich caress of surprised amusement near Windswept's audio.

Windswept shook his head against the larger mech, kissing softly at Drift's neck cables, murmuring softly against his neck. "I am yours, in everything. Even this. Especially this." He shifted against the fingers, shivering at the jolts of pleasure it sent through him.

Drift hummed and wiggled his fingers, enjoying the reactions he was getting enough to ignore his own spike for the moment. "Overload whenever you feel like it," he purred with a deep rumble of arousal in his engine. Slowly he slid his fingers up and down, exploring the untouched valve and the writhing creature against him.

Whenever he felt like? Permission that Windswept was thankful for as the fingers in his new valve did things to him that he had only ever heard of. The approval he sensed from Drift, the obvious pleasure his master was deriving from his actions, only made it all the more intense.

Exploring fingers found an extra sensitive node, the rush of sensation it brought the blue mech bowing his frame. The next touch, deliberate, brought the offered overload through his system, new and wonderful and frighteningly intense if it wasn't for his core-deep trust of the one causing it. When he began to track his frame and surroundings again, he was in Drift's arms, being carried further into the ship.

He snuggled against the white frame and the field still merged with his own. The pleasant energy still tingling through his frame was nice, but even better was the close contact with Drift, the arousal rolling off the larger mech already claiming his attention once more.

Windswept shifted carefully, fingers and glossa playing slowly over the armor of the mech holding him.

"I think we're going to enjoy our down time together," Drift rumbled as he pushed his field into Windswept, showing his approval, desire and intentions for the next few joors. "Exploring your frame for more of those noises."

That comment earned him a soft sound of anticipation as Windswept nuzzled eagerly at Drift as the door to the simple but fairly large berthroom slid open. "Whatever you wish, my master," he purred, glancing over his shoulder at the space. A full third of the free space in the ship it contained a berth in one corner, a simple desk and terminal in the other. Between the two was space and hangers for weapons both ancient and modern. A door leading into another room next to the desk, but most of the room was given to empty space.

It was the berth, which Drift was walking towards, that held Windswept's attention. It wasn't a nice as the one he'd recharged in the last ship, but it looked serviceable enough. If he was destined to share it with Drift, it would be pleasant enough as well, at least for the time being. He would have to observe more of his master's preferences, but even now he could see simple improvements that would make what was already present more comfortable.

For a moment his attention drifted around the room again, though his hands never stopped moving, caressing smooth armor. Armor...he would have to see if his master would allow him to care for him, detail him. The thought fled as he was laid on the berth and the warm hunger of Drift settled above him.

A strong, demanding mouth descended on his as Drift pressed his knee between Windswept's, spreading the very willing mech's legs.

"Ready?" Drift asked, his field betraying just how eager he was to sink his spike into the chassis under his.

"Always for you." Windswept promised, every bit of him reflecting his willingness, from field to frame as his lips met Drifts again. They both moaned as Drift's spike, larger, thicker, longer and far more solid than his fingers pressed through the soft platelets surrounding Windswept's valve and into the sensor rich passage beyond. Full, so very full, Windswept's entire existence reacted with a cry of exquisite pleasure as his hips rolled up to meet the thrust.

Without hesitating, Drift trembled and held Windswept tightly as he sank in fully and stilled, forcing himself to savor the ripple and spasming around his sensitive spike. It was too rare to be the first to fill a valve not to dedicate every sensation to permanent memory.

And this was one was his- intended, offered, and willingly given by the mech under him. Optics, trusting and full of complete devotion, met his as Windswept trembled in his hold.

"Please, master. Take what is yours," Windswept moaned at the intense zaps of charge that hit his neutral net as Drift pulled his hips back, then crashed forward with a growl and sharply more aggressive field.

"Mine," Drift claimed Windswept's mouth, thrusting his glossa inside.

Any answer that Windswept might have had was lost as the blue mech submitted completely, welcoming the aggressive passion he was being shown eagerly. Everything about this was _right_ to Windswept, and it showed.

Eager hands caressed and tweaked the other frame while glossa teased and invited the intrusion. Windswept's field sang with pleasure again, feeding it back to the one providing it.

This is what he had been created for, and Windswept reveled in fulfilling his function. Every thrust, every grunt and rumble Drift uttered, drove the pleasure all the higher. Even though he didn't _remember_ in the moment, Windswept responded from something he had been told early on about his master's processors.

Drift _liked_ to drive his berthmates to overload after overload, gaining a satisfaction beyond pleasure at his virility and skill displayed that way.

Permission from earlier, never revoked, freed Windswept to cry out his pleasure as the charge of another overload crashed through, driven by so many different components that even later he would be unable to identify what had finally tipped him over the edge. Not that he particularly cared. It felt unbelievably good. Not just the overload itself, but the smug pleasure it caused to ripple in Drift's field.

A third hit him in nearly the same moment as Drift roared his first, flooding Windswept's first valve with deliciously hot transfluid as their fields shared the electrical bliss that forced Windswept to shut down.

He rebooted to a hazy sense of feeling good, sated ... and on his front with his aft in the air.

"Good, you're awake," Drift's voice rolled over him, the self-satisfied mood of the larger mech clear in both tone and field. "I never met a mecha with two valves before," he purred, still delighted with the discovery his fingers were lightly stroking the inside of. "I think I'll need to pick up a false spike or two to play with that."

"Created to please you." Windswept reminded him again, the modification a direct result of anticipating what would please Drift. Soft purring rose from the blue mech as fingers lightly teased at the sensor nodes in the second valve.

It was as sensitive and as functional as the first, and purely for Drift's pleasure as Windswept arched his back, offering and asking. He was quickly learning that while the larger mech preferred submission in that he got his own way, he also seemed to appreciate a willing partner that participated.

And Windswept was very willing.

A long moan rolled from him as the fingers pulled out, only to have Drift's spike rub against the sensor rich platelets that covered and protected the valve opening. The pulses of anticipation in Drift's field were intoxicating.

Then it was all Windswept could do to keep up with the pleasure crashing through him at Drift's hard thrusting pace. There was no doubt the white mech was out to get himself off, yet he still angled each thrust to rub against the most sensors with just the right pressure.

Later it would occur to him that this was far more than he had hoped for when they had talked about his master to be before he was delivered to Drift. But right now Windswept's focus narrowed once more to the wonderful sensation of being taken and used as he was created to be.

Sounds of pleasure and pleading poured him as his valve rippled and clenched, greedy for the rush of slick heat that was Drift's overload. It didn't take long, Drift true to his word that he wasn't much at denying himself what he desired.

A few hard thrusts spilling transfluid into Windswept's second valve and Drift leaned forward, panting and spent for the moment.

"I'm definitely going to enjoy having you around," Drift purred as he slowly pulled out to flop onto the berth next to Windswept.

The smaller mech stretched, wincing slightly at the unfamiliar strain on still new equipment, and snuggled his master's side cautiously, ready to move away in an instant if Drift did not wish him close, even when moving away meant leaving the berth. It really wasn't meant for two mechs. "Thank you."

A light touch to his shoulder as Drift shifted to his side to consider Windswept matched the generally content flow of their still meshed fields.

"I understand you have good training files for field medic, field repair, small ship maintenance and piloting," Drift paused for a response.

"Yes master." Windswept quickly reviewed his files. "I was programmed in hopes of being able to meet all of your needs. All of the files were reviewed when I came online, and the medical files have been used already. I have also been programmed with a complete set of serving protocols and domestic skills."

He looked at Drift, optics bright and shifted closer. "If there is another service you wish me to perform I will find the programming for it. You must only speak."

"I see they designed you with armor and a practical alt," Drift said, his expression serious but with definite approval. "How are at you self defense, what weapons do you prefer?"

"I was not provided with defense or combat programming. I do not know." Curious optics flickered to the Great Sword still on Drift's back, then along the weapons stored on the wall as decoration and a means of practicality. "They believed you would wish to address such matters yourself."

Drift nodded and nudged Windswept to get up so he could. "What's your energy level?"

Windswept was on his pedes in an instant, the motion graceful and quick with all of his attention focused firmly on his master. "78%, with an emergency reserve."

"Then we can see if you have an affinity for any weapons before refueling," he said simply. "Only one real rule about them. _Never_ touch the Great Sword unless I tell you to or to keep it out of the hands of someone who isn't me."

Windswept bowed his helm. "I understand."

"Good," Drift said as he drew one of his short swords and flipped it over in his hand, easily catching it by the blade to offer Windswept the hilt. "We'll start with these."

Windswept took a moment to study the blade he was being offered before accepting it. The balance was good, the weight strange in his hand as he focused on the weapon. He shifted his attention to Drift, waiting for further instruction, only to realize his master had taken a couple full steps back and drawn the other sword.

"Just swing it around, get a feel for it," he said, light blue optics sharp and focused in a way Windswept hadn't seen before. "We're just seeing if you have a talent for a type of weapon."

Obediently Windswept swung the blade, first in slow, shallow arcs as he got a feel for way it moved and moved him, the extra weight tugging at his hand at the end of each swing.

Then he moved on to swifter moves, distracted by the feel of the weapon and strangely fascinated.

He was completely oblivious to the way Drift's focus shifted and sharpened. He never sensed his master step forward to block a swing with his own sword.

Windswept froze as the blades connected, his focus back on Drift as he searched for a reason for the change. There was an edge to his frame though, a readiness to _move_ if he had to.

"Not the worst reflex," Drift sounded rather amused as he tapped their blades together, testing Windswept's grip again. "Just not the best one. You _like_ the feel of it though."

"It is...not unpleasant." Windswept confessed, unsure what sort of reaction he was supposed to have to the presence of the weapon that was still firmly gripped in his hand.

A low nod and Drift took a step back, shifting his balance to a ready defensive stance. "Come at me. Try to score a hit."

Windswept jerked and dropped the blade, his entire frame quivering as everything in him rebelled at the mere idea of potentially bringing harm to his master.

"Can't." He whispered, core programming overruling his fascination with the blade and even his deep desire to obey.

"Useful to know," Drift mused. "You can't spar, or you can't try to damage me?"

Relieved that Drift did not appear to be angry with his disobedience Windswept explained quickly. "Can't try to damage you. It's...impossible. Sparring, there is nothing in my programming that interferes with that."

"Good," Drift nodded and swept up his second short sword before sheathing them both and turning to pull two short swords from the wall. When he walked over to Windswept again his first move was an effortless twisting of one before snapping it against the blue mech's upper arm. "Practice swords. The worst you can do is chip some paint," he explained before flipping it over and offering it hilt-first to Windswept.

Windswept took the practice blade, automatically feeling for difference between it and the blade that Drift had given him before. While even damaging paint did not please his programming, if his master wished him to use one of these he believed this possible.

"You have to _hit_ before you can damage," Drift pointed out with a smirk and settled into a defensive stance. "So show me what combat instincts you have."

Still hesitant, Windswept took several practice swings with the blade before he focused on Drift, optics traveling over his master and noting the difference in the stance, in the feel and state of his master from what he knew. This Drift was more relaxed and smiling in a way that was meant to unsettle; Drift in his most natural element. Few who saw that smile would survive to see the next orn.

Then steeling himself, Windswept struck ... or tried to. It occurred to him as the blade passed through empty air that his master was a _master_ with the sword and known the galaxy over for his battle skills. What was Windswept thinking, believing he could come close to being a threat to _Drift_ this way?

He started to turn, seeking his master, only to freeze at the light touch of a blade against the main energon line in his neck. No, not that it would make any difference to his programming, but Windswept stood no chance against his master. Especially not in his master's element.

Still, the flicker of good mood in Drift's field at this range was delightful. The pleasure Drift took in sparring would wear down the bit of code that didn't approve quickly. Windswept had no doubt of it.

The blade at his neck was gone and Drift standing a pace away from him even as he processed it. Processed it and waited for instruction, keen memory replaying everything that he had done, and what Drift had done that in the moment had not registered. The shift, the slide- there one moment and gone the next because somewhere in there Windswept's attention had lapsed.

"Keep trying to score a hit until I tell you to stop," Drift prodded him to action.

Windswept nodded, understanding, and after a moment's consideration attempted a different approach. He had no hopes that it would be any more effective than the first, but it might provide him with different data.

And the more data he had, the more potential there was for him to improve and please his master.


	3. A Pleasurable Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening out with a couple femmes ends up teaching Windswept far more about Drift than he ever anticipated was possible.

Windswept was almost trembling, his optics locked on his master's fluid movements. After two joors with short swords, Drift had taken him to a combat sim in port. A joor with a blaster in hand and Windswept was reasonably confident he could shoot what he intended to ... and nothing else.

Now ... Primus! Now his master was enjoying himself in a way that Windswept knew he could never provide. Blaster in one hand, sword in the other and a dozen combat drones on the field against him. It was stunning to witness, and Windswept privately preened to see how many others had gathered to watch.

His master was stunning.

"Hey," a large organic with curving tusks jutting up from his lower jaw put a hand on Windswept's shoulder. "Deadlock, isn't it?" he jerked his snout towards Drift.

Identification protocols immediately pulled up the creature's designation, species and function. Gubrit. Urgronian. Owner of the combat sim site.

"Drift." Windswept responded automatically, optics darting from his master to the alien.

"Drift, then," Gurbrit said agreeably. "Who are you to him?"

Windswept relaxed, his optics drifting back to his master with pride. "He is my master."

"I have an offer for your master. He can have all the time, ammo and targets he wants, for free, any orn he'll let me sell tickets to watch him. We can write up a contract if he's interested."

Windswept nodded his helm, indicating that he had heard and understood. "I shall relay your offer to my master when he is done. I am sure he will have an answer for you quickly."

"Good mecha," Gurbrit patted his shoulder before wondering off.

::Why was he touching you?:: Drift's comm managed to catch Windswept by surprise. There was absolutely no indication in the white mech's movements that he was anything but completely focused on the damage he was dealing.

::He wished me to relay a message to you when you are done enjoying yourself.:: Windswept considered Drift's words carefully for a moment. ::You wish me to not let others touch me?::

::Touching is fine, as long as he was only being friendly. I'll remove his head if it was more than that,:: he responded. ::I'll show you how to check for plants back on the ship.::

::Yes master. Do you wish his message now, or when you are done?::

::Now is fine. These aren't a challenge.::

::His offer is all the time, ammo, and targets you would like if you will allow him to sell tickets to watch you ... work. A draw for his business. There was the implication that there are more conditions on the offer, but only if you are interested.:: Windswept relayed.

::A maximum of what I can use based on what his take is and how much advanced notice he wants, I expect,:: Drift chuckled without showing it. ::Urgronians are all about the profits, but once you get their signature on a contract, most can be trusted to uphold their end of it. If word gets out that they aren't good to their contract, they lose a lot of business and they know it. Yes, I'm interested for the few orns we'll be here,:: he holstered his blaster and made a show of just how much he was holding back when he dispatched the final three drones in a single spinning flash of his short sword. ::We'll probably manage at least energon credits out of it too.::

::Should I find him and give him your answer then?:: The blue mech murmured, optics sweeping over his master's form appreciatively as Drift left the training room and joined the cheering crowd.

::Yes,:: Drift agreed after a moment to realize that more than a few individuals wanted his attention, and several were offering to buy him a drink. ::I'll join you in his office soon.::

::As you wish. I will inform him of your interest and wait for you there.:: With that Windswept departed, leaving his master in the middle of the admiring crowd. He heard a few of them offer to buy Drift a drink or two, others who wanted to challenge him to a shoot-off or sword-match. He also heard his master's replies, heard the tone he was learning to associate with a relaxed, pleased Drift looking forward to what was coming.

Even as detached as he was from what caused Drift's pleasure this time, it still made Windswept feel _good_ to know that his master was pleased.

"Ah, good, back already?" Gurbrit stood to welcome Windswept into his private office. "I hope that is good news?"

"For you, I believe so. My master is interested in your offer, and will be along soon to discuss the details with you once he had finished making some other arrangements." The blue mech informed him. "I doubt he will be long."

"Good, good," the Urgronian nodded and motioned to one of the chairs in the more open area of his office. "Please sit. Energon?"

Windswept settled gracefully into one of the offered chairs. "No. But thank you for the offer."

"Do you know how long you'll be in port?" Gurbrit asked conversationally.

"My master has not said how long he intends to stay this time. Your offer might have some effect, since I do not know of a schedule that needs to be kept to." Windswept answered honestly, his optics sliding around the office curiously. There were holos of the owner with famous people, trophies, several racks of blasters and rifles of many kinds ... and a huge picture of a lush green world that would be most visible from the owner's side of the desk.

They were saved from attempting any more small talk by Drift's entrance, several obvious admirers hovering outside the door as it closed behind him.

Windswept rose as Drift entered, respectfully stepping back. At his master's nod he sat down and listened attentively as Drift and Gurbrit hashed out an agreement they both found satisfactory, knowing that neither really needed it to work. It was still the efforts of three full breems before the signatures were applied.

As far as Windswept was concerned, it was a dull but extremely informative event. He now knew much better what value Drift put on his time and his violent amusements. The two fliers were still waiting when they left the office.

"Now, still up for a few drinks?" Drift gave the pair a cheeky grin.

"Of course." The lighter purred as she moved close enough to touch. "I don't make offers I don't intend to see through, even if my companion doesn't always agree." Bright optics flashed at the other femme, who looked merely tolerant of the situation.

"So where's your third?" Drift asked, as much to see if they were true Seekers or if they were high-end combat Aerials built with a Vosian aesthetic.

"Recovering. She took a hit in a training exercise gone bad." The lighter femme shivered. "The medics have her locked in stasis right now."

"So you both need a solid distraction for the night," Drift grinned as they settle on each side of him for the walk to a nearby energon bar. ::Do you want to join us in the berth?:: he pinged Windswept's comm on a private line.

::If you wish my company I will.:: Windswept replied. He had no interest in anyone but Drift, but if his participation would please his master he would do whatever was asked of him.

::I would enjoy your company,:: Drift purred, offering up a few choice memory files of good times with multiple berthmates when nicely overcharged. ::Feeling another spike inside you, rubbing against mine....::

A quick shudder ran through Windswept at the idea. ::I believe that is something I would like to experience.:: He admitted quietly.

::Good,:: Drift's engine rumbled at the positive response and the honesty behind it.

"No fair talking sexy to the pretty little thing and not letting us in on it," the light femme complained, optics traveling over Windswept's frame admiringly, even if her hands were still on Drift.

"Just warming him up to the idea of someone besides me with him," Drift chuckled.

"So you are willing to share?" The dark femme, Freefall, murmured, looking as well now. "We were wondering, after the wide berth he was being given at the range."

"To an extent," Drift brushed his field against the larger femmes. "I won't have him taken advantage of, and this is the first interest he's shown in anything that didn't involve just me."

She nodded, her own field expanding out and relaxing some at his words and the truth she could feel behind them. She understood, and respected, what he was saying. It wasn't entirely what she was expecting after seeing Windswept's extreme submission and Drift's obvious alpha personality. She had more than half expected him to not just be possessive, but uncaring about the blue mech's desires. It made her wonder about what else she'd heard about Drift was wrong.

They settled into an easy quiet as they entered the mid-range bar. Nicer than the rough spacer dives Drift tended to patron, but not so nice that he'd be out of place there. But the true deciding factor was that it was the lowest end bar that would have Seeker high-grade. If the femmes were to get a buzz, they had to have a grade of energon that Drift wouldn't even touch.

Music filled the place, loud enough to cover the conversations of those wishing privacy while not so loud that the patrons had to raise their voice so the person next to them could hear.

The dark seeker freed her arm and waved in the direction of an open table. "I will order, if you wish to find a seat. What would you like?"

"Grounder high grade," Drift said, then glanced at Windswept.

The blue mech tilted his helm, looking to Drift for guidance and permission. While his master had mentioned pleasure under the effects of high grade, whether it was permitted, and how much, he did not yet know.

"A strong midgrade," Drift decided after a moment. "Rather not fry your circuits before we even get up," he added with a tolerant smile.

Freefall nodded and headed off to the bar, leaving her companions to find a place for them to sit.

Windswept leaned more into Drift. His thoughts were distracted for a moment at the feel of his master's aroused and pleased field as it wrapped around his. With a small nod in the direction of an out of the way table that had been left since their arrival he found his voice. "What about over there?"

"It'll work," Drift purred, his fingers tracing along a seam of Windswept's armor, causing the blue mech to shiver as they walked over and claimed the dimly lit booth.

The pale femme with them smiled, more at ease even before the delivery of their drinks at the apparent care that Drift felt for the smaller mech. "You two seem quite the pair." She purred as she settled into an offered seat.

"I was created for him," Windswept said with obvious pride that an outsider found him so suited to his master.

"A noble didn't want to remain in debt to me," Drift rumbled in clear annoyance. "First I found out was when Windswept was presented to me last orn."

"Oh?" Skyrush seemed surprised, even though her companion was not as she rejoined them.

"A life for a life." Freefall nodded. "Not an unheard of way to clear such a debt, even if it is not as common as it once was."

"Didn't matter that I insisted it wasn't a debt," Drift shrugged, extending his field to reassure Windswept that Drift didn't find _him_ at fault for his existence or their current situation. "I couldn't have him deactivated or thrown away because I objected to his function," he grumbled, eagerly taking the high-grade cube when it arrived.

All three of his companions could _hear_ the unvoiced part two of his comment: 'not like I was.'

The low rumble of disapproval from both femmes had Windswept cringing against Drift until he realized that it was not directed at him, but rather at the idea that he would have suffered from a choice forced upon him by others.

"There is a reason it has been all but outlawed." Freefall growled. "That being the main one. It must have been someone important, for them to have managed their way through all of the red tape."

"I wouldn't know," Drift shrugged, pulling Windswept a little closer and nudging the smooth, good quality mid-grade towards him. "Designation's Capsong."

A non committal hum issued from the dark femme. It was not a designation that she recognized either, but as she studied Windswept again it was filed away for future reference. If that was how the mech saw fit to repay a debt he wasn't one that she would wish to do business with.

Not that Windswept wasn't a fine quality individual, and at least for the moment perfectly content to serve Drift. What had been forced on both mechs bothered her to her core as she watched the blue mech finally take a sip of his energon and begin to purr as it slid down his intake. It was bad enough to create a mech that existed only to serve, but to create such a mech when the recipient neither knew about nor wanted the servant was a ... it was simply _wrong_. If Drift was the mech matching his reputation, such as she knew it, Windswept would have been discarded. Whether it ended in being neatly deactivated, forcefully reprogrammed or on the street, it was not a fate any mecha should face.

"What brought you to Sekli Ri?" Drift changed the subject, one optic and his field carefully tuned in on his charge to ensure the mid grade was settling well.

"Contract." She answered easily. "My trine was hired to fly escort for a delivery changing hands here. We made enough off of it to take some down time and do some training on the side."

Drift nodded as he relaxed back, knowing fully well how to show off his exotic frame to best effect and that all sides intended this to end up in the berth. In the back of his processors he half wondered why they hadn't just picked up the high grade and headed to the trine's room, but for now the pleasant hum of Windswept's systems next to him and the energizing warmth of the high grade in his hand was enough.

The company was hardly hard on the optics either, even if the Seeker frame didn't hold the kind of fascination for him that it seemed to have with most. No, the frametype that held his optic like no other didn't sport such obvious wings and was not so large. It looked him in the optic and only spread its wings when it wished to display.

"What about the two of you?" The light femme asked from where she was leaning against her trinemate, most of her highgrade gone and the effects starting to show. "What brings you here?"

"Just passing through," Drift shrugged. "It was time to restock my ship, and this was the best port in range."

"Nice for us. We got to enjoy quite a show because of it." And the brightness in her optics suggested that she was hoping for something just as entertaining later on in the evening as she accepted the rest of her trinemates cube of energon.

"They'll be a few more before I leave," Drift winked playfully at them. "But the private after-show is the one not to miss," he purred seductively, his field rich with arousal and desire as it crackled against Windswept's and brushed against the Seeker's across from him. "I do take some pride in my endurance."

Windswept whimpered very softly, his field reaching out to mix easily with his masters, wanting and willing now that he knew it was allowed. A thought occurred to him and he cautiously leaned over, ready to back off if he misread the signals. Instead, Drift reached a hand over to stroke his helm gently as Drift's spike cover retracted with a soft click and the pressurization of the perfectly white spike.

Windswept purred, arching up to press into the touch on his helm for a moment for a moment before turning all of his attention to his masters spike, joy and excitement filling his field.

A brief moment of consideration before he leaned down and ran his glossa up the length of the pressurizing spike before taking the length in his mouth.

Drift's optics flickered as his helm fell back against the bench's back. His field hummed with pleasure-approval as a soft moan escaped his vocalizer. There was no question, no hesitation in his stroking of Windswept's helm for encouragement. Only the quiet level of his vocalizations hinted that this wasn't a perfectly acceptable place for interfacing.

The blue mech purred softly, taking the spike deeper and working his glossa along the length, remembering everything that he had learned during the search for his master and his perfection of _this_ art. The touch to his helm and rich feel of his master's field as Drift shared his pleasure was more than enough to tell Windswept he was doing a good job.

Then Drift's hand slid down his helm, along his backstrut and circled lightly, enticingly, around the center of Windswept's back valve cover.

A shiver ran through Windswept at the suggestive touch, an edge of question coloring his field as he arched into the touch but never stuttered in the attention he was paying to Drift.

Helm moved steadily, taking his master's spike deeper, seeking to please Drift and secretly seeking the rush he got from pleasing his master in any and every way possible.

"Open, pretty," Drift moaned softly, shuddering faintly as the pleasure rose. "Want to feel how hot you are."

The cover snapped open instantly, catching the attention of both of the seekers watching the show and earning a surprised and appreciative purr from Skyrush. "Ohhh, fun."

Drift grinned at them, his optics still shuttered with pleasure as he pressed two fingers into Windswept's slick, hot valve. "Oh, he absolutely is."

Windswept moaned, the sound just loud enough to be heard by those present at the table as his field flared with want, want to please and want to feel, as lips and glossa worked his masters spike in time to the pace Drift was setting. His valve clenched and milked the digits inside him while his intake did the same with Drift's spike. As good as it felt, it was nothing compared to the pleasure of _pleasing_ his master so fully.

With his ultimate goal to please Drift, to feel his master's pleasure above his own, his focus centered his efforts on bringing his master release.

Drift used the physical contact to comm Windswept without broadcasting it. ::Trouble coming. Keep going, but be ready to get clear when I say so.::

The briefest pause on Windswept's end, but quickly covered as he shifted to draw his knees under him more, arching his back and taking Drift even deeper. At the same time, it would allow him to move clear the instant his master ordered him to. 

Drift's ventilations picked up and a low, pleasured moan vibrated the air around him. He pulled his finger's from Windswept's valve and made a show of licking them clean for the two winged femmes across from him, but also for the two mecha approaching from behind.

It wouldn't do for the aggressors to realize he was ready for them until it was entirely too late.

Clearly overcharged, Skyrush's optics followed his motions greedily, the heat starting to radiate off her strong enough to be felt across the table. Her darker companion was more focused on Windswept, contemplative and appreciative as his helm bobbed up and down along with whimpers of arousal.

Suddenly Drift's hands were on Windswept's helm, directing more strongly as the white mech grunted, his overload close, tingling just at the edge of his grasp yet building fast.

Instant submission as Windswept allowed himself to be manipulated to bring the most pleasure to Drift, absolute adoration of his master flowing through his field. It was all it took to set Drift over the edge and he overloaded with a forcefully muted grunt. Strong hands were careful not to damage the blue mech as Drift's hips rolled up into the blissful mouth with each burst of transfluid and jolt of the overload charge.

Yet before the last of it could be licked away, Drift nudged Windswept to move and slid sideways out of the booth. He didn't care that his spike was still fully pressurized, standing proudly for anyone to see. Not that anyone was likely to notice with the flash of blades that cut through the blasters as they were drawn as easily as they cleaved air, only to end their precise and deadly arc at the mech's throats.

"I suggest you rethink that idea before I rethink stopping," Drift rumbled, low and deadly.

The level of noise in the bar dropped noticeably as many of the other patrons noticed the disturbance. A low growl rose to accent Drifts warning as a dark seeker rose from her seat as well.

While it was clear that Drift had things under control, Seekers were notorious for being territorial, and Drift was their potential companion for the orn.

The two would-be bounty hunters glanced at each other, at Drift's face, then his hands and gave a cautious step back.

"Now shoo," Drift waved them away with one sword before sheathing them as he turned back to his seat next to Windswept.

For a moment the pair hesitated, as though considering for a moment if they still had a chance. The whine of the Seeker's arm cannon's powering up ended that thought and they turned to bolt out of the bar.

"Who were they, master?" Windswept snuggled up against Drift's side as soon as he was sure the danger was past and let out a relieved sound when Drift's field extended to embrace him.

"No one," the white mech shrugged. "Just a couple who know what I'm worth to Megatron."

Freefall snorted, unimpressed, as she powered the cannon down and turned to regard all three of her current companions. Skyrush was clearly ready for more fun, but..."Do you wish to stay longer?"

Drift took a moment to depressurize and retract his spike, all the while kissing Windswept with all the aggression and hunger still in his systems.

"I'm ready for a quieter local," he answered her when he finally released his lover. "Your quarters?"

"Unless you would be more comfortable in your own. You are both welcome in ours." She reached out, helping her trinemate from the booth.

"My ship's barely big enough for one mech," Drift chuckled and guided Windswept out of the booth and to his pedes. "You're both too tall to walk around easily."

"Then you might find those designed to be shared among three much more comfortable." Freefall smirked as she led the way out of the bar. "It's not far. We prefer to be close to the spaceports."

"Certainly for what we have planned," he grinned at them, his optics lingering on the paler one, Skyrush. "I'm sure you will too, and _she_ shouldn't remember her own designation, much less her troubles, when I'm finished with her."

Dark wings flicked quietly in agreement to his statement.

Windswept watched all of the exchange quietly, his curiosity overriding even his unsatisfied charge in the moment as he trotted alongside Drift. ::Master?::

::What?:: Drift shifted a bit more focus as his systems began to anticipate the number of overloads and exertion he was expecting of himself before recharging.

::Why is Skyrush in such need of a diversion?::

::Having their trinemate in stasis is traumatic. My guess is that Freefall is the leader between these two, so she's holding together for her trinemate's sake. That or she's just naturally a lot more stable than most Seekers.::

Windswept considered this for a moment. ::She seems more stable.:: He finally concluded, leaning into Drift's field for comfort as the Seekers led the way into a building and onto a lift. 

Drift took the opportunity not walking presented for pinning Windswept against the wall and ravaging his mouth with his glossa while his hands sought out every hot spot on the blue mech's frame he knew about. ::I'm going to make sure you scream my designation before I work on those flutter-mechs,:: he rumbled with a possessive promise of intense and extended pleasure soon.

The blue mech under him whimpered, but it was the sound of utter bliss as slowly fading charge was brought roaring back to life. ::Yours.::

Without any more hesitation Drift reached over to hit the stop for the lift, pausing it between floors as he slid his spike cover open. "Want it?" he purred, rubbing the quickly pressurized length against Windswept's front valve cover. "Want a show?" he asked the Seekers without looking at them.

While Drift might only be able to hear the whine of desire and want behind him, Windswept had a clear view as Freefall grabbed her lighter trinemate and started playing with the broad expanse of the pale femme's wings.

"Please." The darker femme purred in answer as the almost silent sound of Windswept's valve cover giving way to his master's demands tickled both of their audios.

With a rumble of anticipation, the pleasure of being in control, Drift transformed his backward extending spaulders to lay flatter. He turned to lean back against the wall and pulled Windswept's back against his chest. "Then let's give them a show," he purred in Windswept's audio before sliding two fingers into the front valve while the other hand stroked the blue chestplate seam possessively. "Show them how hot you are lost in pleasure," he added, rubbing his spike against the back valve cover, intent on penetrating both at once to give his charge a feel of what two spikes would feel like.

"Master-Drift." Windswept moaned, his second valve cover sliding away as he turned his head, adoring optics focusing on Drift with a willingness to give the white mech anything and everything. Drift lowered his helm to kiss his lover deeply as his spike pressed into Windswept.

"You feel so good," Drift moaned, thrusting slow and deep with fingers and spike into the frame that had been designed to fit perfectly with his own.

Blue melted against white, moaning and pleading already from the new level of feeling, field flowing deep into Drift as Windswept forgot trying to hold it close. His lips played over his master's neck and jaw, asking to be taken and claimed as the rest of him was.

A clear message to the femmes watching and getting off on the show themselves that while he might be shared on occasion he only belonged to _one_ mech.

::Do you have a spike?:: Drift organized his thoughts enough to ask, to _think_ of who else would be in the berth.

::Yes.:: Windswept reached back, latching on to Drift for stability and to focus himself. ::Created to please you, for whatever you might want from me, now or in the future.::

::Want to please.:: The blue mech repeated, rubbing his frame against the white one with abandon.

::You do,:: Drift shuddered at the wanton desire, the absolute devotion to pleasure and to him. It was so much like what he'd lost, what he'd sought for so long in random berths. That triggered another thought, a far more serious one that was promptly tagged for later. ::You please me very much.::

He slid his fingers from Windswept's valve and tapped on the panel in front of it. ::Want to feel your spike.::

The admission, the praise, drew a cry of pure pleasure from Windswept, his spike revealed in an instant at the expression of his masters desire.

The femmes watching were practically forgotten as the blue mech's entire world shrunk to the strong arms holding him close, the warm frame pressed against his back and the dominate field tangled so thoroughly with his own. The spike sliding in and out of his back valve lit up his sensors with pleasure, but the first touch of his master's hand along his spike was intense in an entirely new way.

Strong black fingers explored the finely constructed spike, caressing every line of articulation, every sensor node, exploring the length in the only way Drift was able to without memories causing his frame to rebel.

New sounds issued from Windswept with the new sensation, back arching in pleasure and at first unsure of what to do as he struggled with the desire to meet the pleasure of his masters spike driving into his valve and the reflexive urge to thrust into the touch and pressure on his own spike.

Against his back Drift shuddered at the rush across their fields, at experiencing a pleasure he knew so well for the first time through another. "You're so good," he rumbled in Windswept's audio, forcing his physical reactions down to hold out until his lovely blue mech overloaded in both valves and his spike.

Drift didn't have to maintain his self control for long, the simple praise in the words and the truth of them in Drift's field what the blue mech craved above all. His master's name escaped Windswept as keen of overwhelming physical and emotional pleasure as his entire frame locked in dual overload. With a ragged moan Drift pulled out of Windswept's back valve and guided the mech to his hands and knees on the floor before driving into his front valve hard and deep. The charge of the first overload was still cascading through Windswept when his front valve exploded with pleasure, then again when Drift finally roared his own overload and filled the eager space with hot transfluid.

Windswept came around comfortably cradled in the arms of his master, and he nuzzled affectionately at the white mech, devotion and adoration in the motion.

He also used the motion to hide the smirk caused by the appreciative comments drifting over from the corner where he could still hear the sounds of dissipating overload.

::I'm not the only one who thinks you're irresistible,:: Drift purred smugly as he stroked Windswept's chassis. "Is everyone able to walk again?"

::Only belong to you.:: Windswept reminded him, pressing his frame closer before turning to watch the Seekers rise from the floor of the lift.

Freefall kept a hand on her wingmate, steadying the other femme. "I believe so. And as pleasant as that was-" And her bright optics revealed just how nice the backwash from the wing overload she had given her trinemate had been "'There are going to be others wanting the lift soon. And this will be just as much fun in private."

"If not more so," Drift grinned at the pair as he helped Windswept stand, then tagged the stop button again to take them to the floor the Seekers were staying on.

The quarters that they were ushered into were simple and plain, obviously temporary housing. But the large berth that dominated the room looked as thought it would suit their needs quite well.

Small personal items were scattered here and there throughout the room, and Freefall left her trinemate to gather them out of the way while she shoved a large lounge away from the window. Satisfied with her work and the fact that Skyrush was already sprawled invitingly on the berth, the dark femme tilted her helm in Drift's direction. "Well?"

The white mech chuckled and nuzzled his lover. "Want to watch, or play with her?"

Windswept leaned into Drift, knowing by now that the white mech would not have offered unless he meant it but still needing to ask. "You don't mind?"

"I don't mind," Drift added 'why isn't this annoying me' to that serious half-thought from earlier to meditate on later.

With a final brush of lips against Drift's Windswept crossed the room to the dark femme, his optics bright and curious now that he had permission to explore something new.

Drift gave the pair a grin before stalking forward to join Skyrush on the berth. "What's your poison, pretty?"

"All yours." The pale femme purred as she rolled to her front and arched her back, wings extended fully in invitation that was as clear as the exposed and dripping valve presented to the mech behind her.

"Front or back is your choice, but she likes having her wings played with when someone takes her." Freefall supplied as she settled on the lounge with Windswept on her lap, her hands roaming slowly over the blue mech's armor even as much of her attention was still on her trinemate. "And taken hard too, when she's this overcharged."

Drift chuckled before leaning forward to attack Skyrush's mouth in a kiss that promised all the hard pounding action she could handle. "Hand and knees and I'll rub your wings too," he promised with a sultry rumble.

The femme moaned into the kiss as she rose to obey, quivering with want and need that had barely had the edge taken off of it by the overload in the lift. She shuddered and pressed her hips back as Drift drove his hips forward, sinking his spike into her fully in the single motion. Then hands were on her wings, stroking along the leading edge where the heaviest sensor load was with a firm touch that was just shy of too hard.

The first cry of pleasure from her wingmate was enough to assure Freefall that the pale femme was in good hands, and she let her attention center on the blue mech in her lap with a smile. No matter how much she would have liked it to be otherwise, she could already tell there was little she could do to steal the mechs attention from his master. So instead she chose to indulge and encourage it.

Strong hands lifted Windswept and turned him so that his back was to the Seeker as he straddled her lap. Those same hands slid around his sides so that strong arms supported him as Freefall's head came to rest on his shoulder, her lips close enough to murmur into his audio. "You love your master. Love it when he takes you, claims you as his."

The blue mech nodded, shivering, and Freefall continued. "I would bet you've always had to imagine what he looks like when he is claiming you, taking you." She nodded in the direction of the berth. "Well, now you can see."

See and be riveted by the smooth strong motions of hips pounding into another. Of strong black hands moving over tactile sensors that drew shivers and moans from the mecha under his white frame. Watching without the distraction of his own pleasure the details of Drift's expression and reactions to the writhing frame and pleasure under him.

"He's beautiful," Windswept murmured, somewhat in awe of the idea that he drew such sounds and expressions from his master.

"Even more so when he is with you." She told him, the scene from the lift still clear in her memory as a hand slid down his back and over his rear valve cover. "I think he finds extra pleasure in that."

The cover slid away as he continued to watch, the pale femme driven to her first overload, her wings flared and charge crackling over her frame and licking at his master's plaiting. Drift didn't seem that close though, not like when Windswept was with him. Enjoying it, but not on the edge as he continued to thrust hard against Skyrush's aft.

"Going to 'face you into oblivion, pretty," Drift hissed the promise as a threat.

"Please." Skyrush begged once she was coherent enough to form words again, and moaned. "Soooo good."

A low chuckle rumbled from Drift as he picked up the pace, driving into her even harder. It was its own kind of power trip, doing this to another. Not the same as combat or _taking_ , but he had not denied it for some time: he got off on driving another into recharge from overloads without being driven that far himself. Sending them to the medbay and have them come back for more was even better, but he didn't plan to be in port long enough for this one to try that.

She'd _remember_ him though.

Her cries of pleasure and pleading mixed slowly with the soft sounds escaping Windswept as the dark femme worked his valve slowly, determined that the small mech should have a good time as well.

"Was the lift the first time he touched you?" she purred in his audio, the fingers of one hand lightly tracing over his spike cover.

"First time there." Windswept admitted, leaning back against her chest and allowing the blending of the edges of their fields. With the first touch he knew it would never be as satisfying as the feel of his master, but there was an undercurrent of need in hers that he found himself responding to anyway.

Another series of keening cries from the berth caused them both to focus there for a moment as Skyrush overloaded once more, now with Drift's fingers deep in her wing-joints as he leaned forward and pulled her into each thrust. He was finally getting close and his face was twisted into a snarl of quickly-growing need as he sought his own release over her next one.

Freefall hummed in contentment as she watched her trinemate collapse on the berth, spent for the moment and practically already in recharge as Drift finally overloaded inside her. "How about giving your master something to enjoy while he collects himself? A little warm up for us."

Windswept whined and squirmed in her lap, suddenly aware of the pressure of a spike against his back. He looked at his master, still twitching against the pale Seeker's back with his fingers in her wing-joins and spike fully buried.

He did look so enticing in his bliss.

After a moment Windswept nodded. "What do you desire?"

"Just enjoy." The femme instructed, lifting him up and sinking into the already exposed rear valve slowly. "He's been so very good to us I'd like to return the favor."

At Windswept's moan, Drift looked over and grinned at the show. As Freefall began to thrust into Windswept, Drift gave an experimental thrust into Skyrush to see if she really was out for the count.

A soft moan was his answer, the rise to meet his thrust almost a reflex action on the part of the femme, but the slight brightening of her optics hinted that she might yet have one more round in her. With a low chuckle Drift pulled out and rolled her over so he could hold her legs, draping them over his shoulders and leaning forward to hit entirely new sensors.

"I'm going to 'face you into oblivion," he promised the half-aware Seeker, enjoying the new position as well as the view it afforded him of Windswept and Freefall. "Save enough so you can take another round," Drift grinned at Freefall. "We both want to feel what it's like to have two spikes filling him."

"No worries about that." Freefall purred, hands roaming freely over Windswept's frame, keeping him positioned to give Drift the best view of his lover caught in pleasure. It wasn't lost on her, or Windswept, that Drift was paying far more attention to what he was seeing than what he was doing. Windswept was the center of his world, even across the room.

As far lost in pleasure and overcharge as Skyrush was the arrangement worked for everyone involved, and the dark femme focused on drawing as many sounds and expressions of bliss from Windswept as she could.

The fact that it was Drift's designation the small blue mech called when he overloaded only brought a subtle smile of affection to her features as savored her own overload and the feel of the pleasant creature in her arms. When she felt coordinated enough to stand, she carried Windswept to his master and smiled again when Drift was happy to collect him.

The first touch of black hands on blue chassis was enough to cause Windswept to moan and press close, eager for the contact and subtle reassurance that Drift was still pleased with him.

"Always," Drift whispered in his audio before claiming a heated kiss while he groped and caressed the pleasure-dazed mech. "Mine."

"Yours." Windswept agreed, pressing his lips against Drift's and reveling in the touches on his frame, sliding his hands over his master in return.

"So sweet." Freefall commented as she knelt on the berth as she shifted her recharging trinemate to the side of the berth.

"I'm not sweet," Drift growled at her, but the words lack the venom they would have once held. "On your back, flutter-mech."

Broad wings flared at the orders, the growl with the motion soft enough to be a purr as she eased back.

Drift grinned at her and nibbled on Windswept's audio. "Do you want her valve or spike?"

The blue mech nuzzled against his master, considering. After the elevator he wanted to experience the feel of two spikes, to have both of his valves filled at the same time as he was pinned between two larger frames.

But the idea of feeling an actual valve around his spike and not just skilled hands of a lover was something new for him as well. A personal desire he wasn't entirely sure how to address.

He turned his helm to look at the femme laid out on the berth, and with a small smile she moved, hands tracing down her own frame and guiding his optics to the exposed valve.

"Your choice," Drift nuzzled him. "We'll get to both."

That made his decision easier. "Valve." He declared, spike already out and pressurizing at the mere idea. He felt the hard rev of Drift's engine against his back as his master encouraged him forward.

"Take her, sink deep inside and feel a valve," Drift encouraged him, his field rippling with arousal and desire. ::This is something I can not offer you.::

There was no question, only complete acceptance as Windswept responded to the arousal spilling from his master as he obeyed.

The light guiding touch on his hips was welcomed and almost forgotten as a flood of new sensations hit the blue mech once again. The slick, tight feel of the valve rippling around his spike was processor stopping as he fell forward, arms bracing.

"Feels good, doesn't it," Drift rumbled, trembling at the pleasure assaulting him from Windswept's field. It felt too good, too intense, as Windswept's broadcast triggered memories of what that incredible sensation had been like for the first time so long ago. That first time when pleasure had been for _pleasure_ , had some emotion beyond hunger for its existence.

The white mech gave a shuddering moan at the assault that hit his frame from all sides but touch.

A whimper of response as Windswept started to thrust into the willing valve, the Seeker beneath him encouraging him as shamelessly as his master.

It was all Drift could do to allow Windswept this experience as it should be; undirected by an outsider. He knew he would overload when Windswept did, the memories were far too intense and he desperately latched on to the first that presented itself, knowing all too well where his memories would lead if he allowed them to drift as they willed.

A soft whimper escaped Drift as his effort to keep this one memory playing dragged in related memories from that time, good and bad. He pressed against Windswept's back and soaked in the purity of the moment, of the other mech's experience, hoping that in some small way it could bring a little more purity into his own hardened and bitter existence.

Freefall's hips rose to meet each thrust, purring in pleasure as Windswept grew bolder and his actions stronger, deep thrusts setting off sensors in her valve to send jolts of pleasure through her entire frame.

Bliss and wonder rolled off the smaller mech, flooding his field and adding to the pleasure of both of his current berthmates, and when overload hit him for the first time this way Windswept didn't try to fight it. He was only distantly aware that his master roared in overload behind him, flooding their meshed fields with pleasure.

Feefall heard it though, even if she didn't know exactly what context to put 'Gasket' in, before the energy, rush of transfluid and pleasure tipped her over the edge. In the immediate aftermath of mutual overloads she was more concerned with the small mech sprawled across her chest, systems still purring in pleasure, than with his far more experienced lover wavering on his knees between her legs.

"That was intense," Drift finally murmured, optics bright with surprise and regret as he looked down on the blue mech he felt responsible for.

"Very much so." Freefall agreed, stroking Windswept's frame gently as the small mech was given time to pull himself together. "You really do have a treasure here." She murmured, optics shifting from Windswept to his master.

"Yes," Drift murmured, now steady enough to lean forward without toppling over. "He is special," he murmured, kissing an audio without putting his weight on the smaller mech. Yet the strongest emotions in his voice were regret and loss.

As curious as the femme was growing about the pair, she didn't do more than offer a curious brush of her field before focusing on a Windswept just coming around.

"Which way do you enjoy more with her?" Drift nuzzled him affectionately as he forced his reactions to be positive. More things to meditate on later.

He was going to have a very long orn.

The small mech twisted around to kiss Drift before answering. "Like this, but still would like to feel more new."

Drift chuckled in good humor. "So how about her in one valve," he reached down to tease Windswept's back one. "While I take the front."

A willing moan met his suggestion, the smaller mech pulling out of the femme and turning to face his master completely, kissing the larger mech as he welcomed the warmth of the femme behind him. Eagerness radiated off him, the purity of his desire to simply feel and to please pleasure in itself to those with him.


	4. Struggling with the Past

Drift's consciousness was resistant to his desires for the calm to slip into the meditative state he knew he needed desperately. The past twenty-nine joor had brought far too many things to the forefront of his awareness. As much as it was not his nature, he did recognize the need to analyze what was being shoved into his awareness.

Windswept. Frustration rose in him at the thought of the mech's origins. Created for a function he could be so ill suited for. Not so badly as Drift had been, what little he could recall from his first orns before he'd been discarded to make his way on the street. He had no doubt that the factory owners who'd done so did not expect him to survive more than a few orns without their energon.

They had never counted on the survivor that Drift was. Nor on the kindness of some of those already out there. A mecha willing to do anything to keep functioning and a kind spark willing to teach him were a potent combination. The lessons of those first vorns still guided Drift's functioning, augmented by Decepticon lessons, Wing's lessons ... even a few Autobot and Wrecker lessons.

Wing....

Drift's frame shivered as memories of the small white flier assaulted him. Memories of pleasure, of the second mech to have penetrated him with the intent only to share pleasure, rather than to dominate or hurt him. Memories of a time far too short to heal any but the most shallow of Drift's wounds.

A low, quiet sob escaped him, deep enough in his own mind to have forgotten about the company who now shared the tiny ship with him.

The brush of a concerned field against the edge of his, submissive and seeking.

Windswept knelt by his master, content to leave the mech alone with his thoughts until the sound caught his attention and made him hesitate. Drift had given him no real direction save to find something useful to do.

Tidying up had fit the bill well enough that the small blue mech had until now, the sign of distress waking the part of his coding that demanded he attend to whatever was causing his master discomfort.

Drift's field reached out, recoiled from some internal pain and reached out again, drawing strength from the quiet, non-threatening presence as he dragged himself to full awareness. He blinked at Windswept several times, trying to place who and why and where and what.

The small blue mech remained unmoving, optics locked on his master as he tried to figure out what he could do, or if he should do anything at all.

After a moment Drift focused fully, but still seemed thoughtful. "Why did _you_ answer the call to that frame?"

Windswept met his optics, obviously surprised at the question as he settled down to consider an answer. Finally he shrugged a little. "Why wouldn't I? It was a chance to live again, and it felt _right_."

It wasn't a real answer, but for the little that Windswept could remember it was the only thing that he could put into words.

"I suggest you pray that Primus was not being cruel when he gave you the option," Drift murmured. "People don't live long around me. Not the ones who I want to live at any rate."

Windswept shrugged again and cautiously slid closer to Drift. "Want to be here with you. Whatever happens."

"Why?" Drift searched his face, focused on his optics, a frown deeply etched on his features. "Why with _me_?"

It was something that Windswept had never stopped to consider. He cringed away as he tried to think it through, tried to find a reason. Finally he looked up Drift, clearly fearful. "Because I was created for you."

"Programming?" Drift asked, voice low and sad.

"Programming to serve. To please." And from the moment he had woken up to the Priest who had called him and the mech who had guided his training he had been pointed towards Drift. On a level he had known about Drift from the time he had been aware of himself.

"To place yourself second in importance," Drift added. "I'm not going to discard you, Windswept," he sighed. "You don't need to worry about that. Wing would never forgive me."

The faint trembling visible along the smaller mechs frame from the time the questioning had started finally eased as Windswept snuggled himself against Drift's side, field full of relief. To him his functioning didn't seem that bad.

And whoever this Wing was, he was, or had been, very important to his master. The grief and loss that permeated Drift's field was unsettling, but it was ... old pain, Windswept decided. Old but not yet dealt with.

"You would have liked him," Drift smiled briefly. "He was all about enjoying existing. From sparring to the berth, if he wasn't thinking about interfacing, something was wrong. His Great Sword still feels of him," he murmured, reaching out to caress the ancient blade. "It's not mine. It never will be."

Had been then, curious optics traveling over the Great Sword once more with the same respect they had always held before Windswept relaxed, field reaching out towards his master's and full of the devotion that was only growing stronger the longer Windswept spent in Drift's company.

It was quite clear to Windswept that he could never fill the hole the loss of that other mech had left in his master's life. But if Drift would keep him as he promised then Windswept was certainly going to do all he could to make his masters life easier.

"I am yours."

"As I..." the words choked off as Drift curled in on himself, the grief flowing freely through him despite his best efforts. The truth of the half-voiced thoughts. He did belong to Wing. Everything that was worthy of being _Drift_ was because of Wing.

When did he become _able_ to feel like this?

Instead of pulling away Windswept pushed closer, wrapping himself around his master as best he could. He didn't understand why it worked, only that it seemed to help Drift, and to Windswept that was all that mattered.

Drift curled even tighter, but his field latched onto Windswept's tightly. Unnoticed by either mech, the Great Sword's gem glowed brightly, sending tendrils of energy into Drift's field to draw out even more.

Memories of Wing, of what they shared, of why he'd chosen to accept a path that was against his very nature. Memories of _why_ Drift had chosen to die with the Knights of Light to protect a city he barely knew, even if he still lived when the dust settled. He wanted what Wing had, all of it, not just the fighting grace, but the love of functioning, the purity of purpose, the cadre bond among the Knights, the _home_.

All of that washed over Windswept, making some things clear and generating questions, maybe for later, maybe for never. Pride worked its way into the blue mechs field, pride in his master and the larger understanding that he was forming of Drift.

Something deep in Drift reacted to that, half in a scramble to take it in and bask in the rare emotion and half a reflexive rejection of his worthiness of it. All of him still completely unbalanced by the memories and unchecked emotions centered on Wing, the Knights, the city he had left behind to find himself, to do what he thought he was meant to: fight.

Counter to all of that was the mech pressed into his side and his field, accepting without judging and offering complete devotion and a willingness to follow wherever the road Drift chose led.

More memories played, reanalyzed from a modern perspective. Their first meeting. Deadlock's shock at waking up, his even greater shock at being addressed as Drift and not the designation Megatron had given him. As Deadlock he'd built a reputation to be feared. He'd become a powerful Decepticon, SIC to Turmoil and always in Megatron's optic as a future commander and Lieutenant to the warlord.

The only way they would have found his designation of Drift would have been to look up his spark chamber code. Any memory sweep would have turned up Deadlock.

Slowly, too slowly, Drift realized that if there had been a moment, a catalyst to his change that had begun when Wing had spoken to him over the slaver's camp, it was being addressed as Drift, as something other than the Decepticon he had become.

His entire frame shaking uncontrollably, Drift dragged himself back to reality before he faced Wing's death. He wasn't ready for that.

Surprise rippled against his field. While Windswept had known that the master he had served had once lived a very different life, it was difficult for him to believe that the mech he was pressed up against had once been so...different.

"Not that different," Drift murmured. "Just with a different goal. A much simpler one."

"Different." Windswept insisted quietly. "But not better." That mech would never have allowed him to stay unless it served to further his own goals and ambitions. And that mech certainly would not have been concerned for Windswept on a personal level at all.

"Blame Wing," Drift murmured. "For everything _Drift_ is." He forced himself to his pedes, the iron will that saw him through combat unable to completely still his frame. "Blame Megatron for everything Deadlock was. My part is being too compliant in the drive to survive."

"I thank him for everything you are now." Windswept replied, not looking up from where he still knelt on the floor, but both of them knowing exactly which 'him' Windswept was referring to.

A black hand reached down and pulled him to his pedes. "You would have liked him."

Calm optics rose to meet Drift's. "I think I would have." He agreed, leaning into his master once more, offering all that he was. He could never be Wing, but he could be here and now, whatever comfort that was in the moment.

Drift's intakes hitched, memories flooding him once more. Good memories though, of when Wing did just that for him. Of the handful of times Drift had managed to offer himself. With a growl he pulled Windswept close and kissed him with all the fierce need he could not control.

Windswept submitted instantly, eager and willing to please however he could. It was true pleasure for him to be taken and used by his master as he moaned into the kiss, above and far beyond the physical pleasure he gained from it. When his master _needed_ him so clearly it sent jolts of pleasure through his systems. His master turned to _him_ for comfort. It was more than he dared dream of happening so quickly.

Another growl and Drift pulled, then pushed Windswept to his back on the berth and was on top of him, kissing him with the same intensity as Drift's spike extended between them.

Both valves were uncovered, offering everything that Windswept had to give his master. An offer that was taken with a single thrust as Drift groaned into Windswept's mouth, his frame trembling with the surge of pleasure and relief in the familiar act.

A welcome moan answered him, the smaller mechs valve constricting and rippling around the his spike in another sort of welcome. 

"Mine," Drift growled, low and deep in his chest. He thrust in deep, hard and demanding, memories still tumbling through his processors as the pleasure rose, sharp and blinding. It was a welcome distraction, a focal point for his scrambled senses and memory banks to lock onto. "All _mine_."

"Yours." Windswept cried, promise and far more than mere agreement. Drift needed him, and he needed this, needed to belong. Pleasure washed through him, circling around to flow back in his field. Understanding of his master's moods and needs filled him with purpose and pleasure.

With a moan and grunt Drift overloaded, filling Windswept's valve with hot transfluid and his field with the mindless bliss of loose energy.

A muffled moan from Windswept, overload driven by and in response to Drift's and satisfaction flooded him with the bliss of his master. His valve continued to milk Drift's spike as they both came down, Drift relaxing with a content sound that usually took several more overloads to achieve.

With a low rumble of pleasure Drift pulled out and settled on his side against Windswept's.

For a little while Windswept just snuggled against the other mech, the closeness of fields and the rare moment of peace something the blue mech found himself savoring. Eventually he reached out, hand brushing over Drift's armor, and Windswept frowned as he lifted his head to inspect the scuff in his master's finish.

Lowering his head, he nudged at Drift until the other mech released him. Rising from the berth, Windswept returned quickly with some of the smaller things Drift had allowed him to purchase when they had visited the market earlier.

"You look fine," Drift told him lazily, content to remain on the berth for the time being and enjoy feeling _calm_.

"Not for me." Windswept informed Drift as he sorted through the supplies, finding what he wanted for now, what he would need for later, and scooting aside a couple of things that he didn't need at all in the moment.

Satisfied, he climbed up to kneel on the berth and started to work on his master's finish, beginning with the scuff that had first caught his attention.

With a bemused expression Drift compliantly transformed his spaulders and settled on his back to allow Windswept to do as he pleased. It wasn't as if Drift objected to a detailing; he'd just never felt any need for it. Self-repair handled minor things eventually and everything else went to a medic of some kind, even if it was only his own hand. Watching Windswept work, though, he remembered the quivering mass of pleasure such touches could turn Wing into. It had felt ... powerful ... to control the flier that way. Would Windswept grow bored with it when he figured out that Drift's plating didn't have more than basic pressure and temperature sensors.

Peaceful contentment rolled off the smaller mech as worked his way along his master's frame, his obvious joy at being allowed to perform the task at hand sincere, as was his satisfaction when he settled back to survey his work.

A nod and Windswept leaned forward, concentrating on an area that on a frame like his masters should have initiated a pleasure response from research he had done, and frowning when it did not have the expected result.

"Warrior's neural net," Drift explained after allowing the confusion to settle in. "Only part that has advanced tactile sensors is the interfacing hardware. The rest only feels pressure and temperature."

Windswept nodded in understanding, since that actually made sense given what his master did. Slowly his hands drifted down, running questioningly over Drift's full interface panel. The spike cover in front was warm, ready for action but not demanding it. Across their mingled fields he felt a tingle of the pleasure his touch brought.

The valve cover though, was _welded_ shut, as cold as the rest of Drift's frame.

"I told you I couldn't offer you that," Drift said quietly. "Never replaced it after it was torn out vorns ago."

"Torn?" The question escaping him before he could contain it and a violent shiver ran through Windswept's frame as his entire frame curled up defensively at the thought.

"Decepticons don't suffer traitors well," Drift shrugged even as a flicker of support licked up from his field. "Turmoil isn't one to kill quickly. He wanted me to _suffer_ until he broke me completely. I didn't break."

Windswept shivered again, moving to lay across Drift's frame as his field bled slowly into his master's again as the support chased away the tension that had come with the admission.

"My past is an ugly place," Drift murmured as he stroked lightly down Windswept's spinal strut. "It'll come back again. It's one of the few things I can be sure of. Turmoil's alive and he hasn't forgotten about me."

The blue mech arched into the touch, purring softy in pleasure, but not so distracted that he was past thinking. "Is that why you are always on the move?"

"That and I've never had a place worth staying, worth fighting for," he murmured. "Not since Wing."

Windswept hummed, since it made no difference to him. Where Drift went he intended to follow. Only the grief it caused Drift to lose Wing mattered, and all he could offer to sooth that was himself. "How often will we move?"

"Often as I can. Sometimes a job keeps me somewhere, but usually the Autobots let me hunt on my own," Drift explained, relaxing into the contact and the easy acceptance he was still having difficulty wrapping his processors around.

Windswept shrugged and moved up Drift frame enough kiss him lightly, a bold move from the blue mech. "Not alone any more."

He was rewarded by having the kiss returned and deepened, Drift more than willing to be distracted from his memories and thoughts of the past.


	5. What is in a Designation?

Windswept listened, quieting his systems and extending his sensors as far as he could. He had obeyed his master and found an out of the way place to wait until Drift returned for him.

But there had been no sounds for several breems, and the small blue mech was beginning to grow concerned. It was unlike Drift to leave him alone for long, especially when there was a chance that danger was nearby. Finally Windswept made his decision and emerged, optics sweeping over the battlefield and the downed mecha scattered across it.

By now he could identify his master's work, but he was more concerned with finding his master at the moment.

A flash of white under a large chunk of graying green mech grabbed his attention. His optics focused and saw Drift struggling to get out from under the dying mech. His white armor burned and caked with drying energon.

Wary, Windswept moved as fast to his master's side as he dared. "Drift." he called softly, warning his master of his approach before he actually reached the other mech and surveyed the situation up close.

Thinking quickly he put his shoulder into the dying mech, helping to lift the already graying frame. His master jerked himself free, but even in the simple movement Windswept could see that Drift wasn't moving _right_. The balance of the white frame was off and as Drift dropped into a combat stance to scan for any more opponents, his damage became clear. One shoulder crushed, the arm hanging useless even though the hand still gripped a short sword tightly. Chest armor cracked and buckled in. Glass missing from where it had shattered. Blaster burns and the minor damage Windswept was more accustomed to seeing and repairing rounded out his master's appearance.

When no other threats presented themselves immediately and Drift relaxed slightly Windswept rose, hands running carefully over his master's frame to confirm what his optics were telling him.

He could freak out later, but in the moment medical programming installed before his spark had been placed in the frame it now powered rose to the fore and directed his actions. Swiftly he sealed off all the leaking energon lines he could find and sighed. "You are going to need more attention than I can give this time."

"There's an Autobot installation four orns from here," Drift said quietly, his systems still locked in battle mode thanks to the damage. "Mission's done. We can go there. Not big, but it should have enough."

"Is that going to be close enough?" Windswept murmured, optics sweeping over the damage to his master as he reached out to guide him from the battlefield.

"It will have to be," Drift told him simply, willingly leaning on Windswept; an indication of how bad the damage was. "Nothing is closer."

Windswept nodded, not pleased but realizing that there were no other options, his processor already making plans to do what he could to ease his master's way until help could be reached. He knew how to pilot the ship, how to do minor repairs, what energon additives soothed Drift the most ... he'd even learned how to get Drift to recharge when he didn't want to.

It didn't matter that he _knew_ Drift wasn't in pain. It hurt to look at the damage and know the error messages that would be piling up on his HUD.

Though only a breem away by alt mode, on pede it took them nearly two joors to reach the ship and Drift immediately headed for the cockpit. It would not be the first time the space had been drenched in spilled energon. It was unlikely to be the last.

Windswept followed him, prepared to take over as soon as his master would allow him to. Drift knew where they were going, but after that Windswept could manage.

He watched as Drift set the coordinates, then drifted over his master again. "Why do you do this?"

"It's what I'm good for," he shrugged his good shoulder. "Con, Bot or other, fighting is what I do."

Windswept sighed but didn't argue, well familiar with how master viewed himself by now and contented himself with starting to work on some of the cosmetic damage and minor things that he could reach now that they were in the safety of their own ship.

"You know you don't have to stay with me," Drift pointed out quietly as the shift lifted off. "Programmed loyalty can be fixed."

Windswept faltered for a moment before resuming his work. "Do you wish me to go?" He asked quietly.

Drift was still for a short moment before he spoke, oblivious to the glow of the sword on his back as it reached out to caress him. "No. I wish you to be free to choose."

"Then there is nothing to be fixed, since I have no desire to leave." Windswept stated calmly as he worked on a blaster scorch.

Drift nodded, accepting it because he had no ability to change it. Eventually they would have time in a major city or Autobot base. Then he could see about having the obedience code stripped. It disturbed him on a level he refused to contemplate.

"It disturbs you, that your programming bothers me," Drift said simply as he stood, his frame trembling despite his best efforts to still it.

Windswept stood, moving to support Drift as his optics scanned the control panel quickly and confirmed that he had time to get his master settled in their berth, preferably with a cube of energon, before they would require attention again.

"Anything that displeases you bothers me." That was a fact that Windswept had made no effort to hide. "If you wish the code removed I will not object."

What he did not add was that even if the code was removed no where in him existed a desire to be anywhere other than where he was. As time went on he had found that less of his actions regarding his master were code driven, entire orns passing where Windswept never felt the direction of the code, but yet finding himself happy.

"In time," Drift said, accepting the support without complaint. "Only a few can do it. I have to arrange a stay at a major base."

Windswept shrugged, acceptance of the statement and the weight now leaning on him summed up in a single motion before he guided Drift towards the sleeping quarters. It was a quiet journey, but also short one. A simple signal caused the berth to transform before the door opened, giving Drift's deep spaulders a place to go as he rested on his back while unable to transform them to lay flat.

"Thank you," Drift murmured, still unfamiliar with the phrase, but getting better with it.

"My pleasure." The consistent, sincere response as Windswept fetched energon and left it where Drift could reach it easily. A tiny knot of worry crept into him to see that his master had already dropped into recharge. It wasn't normal, especially after a battle. Battle always left his master needing release, often driving him to use Windswept's frame roughly to expel the aggression that hadn't been spent in combat.

He stepped close enough to get a baseline reading on the condition of his master before going to check the autopilot. As soon as he was satisfied that it was running properly he could get back to watching over Drift.

* * *

The chime of the navigation computer demanded his attention, informing Windswept that they were within half a joor of the reaching their destination. Even if the computer had not sounded, the alert from the comm console would interrupted the train of thought the blue mech had been indulging in.

A flick of his finger silenced the nav computer, allowing him to turn all of his attention to the incoming message. "-Autobot Airspace. Identify yourself now."

"This is the Autobot hunter-ship Wing's Spark under command of Drift," he responded easily. "Windswept speaking. Request permission to dock with one injured."

A quiet hum over the open line as the identification was checked and confirmed, and this time when the voice came back over the line it was not quite as stiff.

"Nature of the injuries?"

"Battle injuries requiring immediate medical attention." Windswept answered, the image of his master arranged in near stasis on the berth flashing through his processor.

"Copy that Wing's Spark. Medic will be standing by when you dock."

Windswept lost himself in the routine, allowing it to take it off his concern for his master. The routing beacon lighting up his board was directing them to a secondary bay, where he was sure there was going to be a security detail waiting as well. It was just one more thing that was normal in the small mech's functioning as he guided the ship competently onto the designated area.

With Wing's Spark settled in the bay, he moved to open the main hatch door and greet the medic.

"It's Drift," the stern looking, dark colored femme said even as he took a step back to let her and the hover-stretcher in. "What did he manage this time?"

"He dropped a larger mech on himself." Windswept grumbled softly before launching into an actual damage report, starting with the worst of the damage. "Frame alignment's thrown off, left shoulder crushed with extensive damage to the limb. Stress fractures to armor on 85% of his entire frame on top of the usual battle damage to energon and fluid lines and stress to joints and connectors."

His report continued as he led her back the recharge quarters. "Fuel levels have been maintained at a minimum of 75% since he returned to the ship. He's been in stasis for almost four orns now, self repair systems functioning as best as they can given the circumstance."

"Wherever he picked you up from, it was a good thing," she gave Windswept a sideways smile. "I'm Keepsafe. I've put him back together a few times." She paused and motioned Windswept to help her move Drift to the stretcher. "Are you going to stay on the ship, or should I make a berth up for you in medbay?"

"The medical bay, if there is room." Windswept answered, moving his master with care and practiced ease. "I'll need to lock the ship down, but there is nothing here that requires my continued presence."

Drift, on the other hand, was another story.

She nodded as she turned to leave. "Does he trust you with his swords? I'll need them removed for surgery."

"Yes." Windswept sighed, another reason he wanted to be close. Drift trusted him, but experience had taught him that his master was very unhappy at being parted with his blades, and the closer they were when he awoke the better things usually were for everyone.

Windswept had every intention of being by Drift's side when the mech came around.

"That'll make it easier when he comes around," she nodded. "Mech's a real demon when he thinks somebody has that big one. Do what you need to, then come to medbay. We'll be ready for you." She pinged him with a databurst of the base map and route to her domain. "I'll have him up and grumbling in an orn or so."

"Thank you." Windswept murmured, nodding to show that he had received the information and understood before heading up to the cockpit to start the lockdown sequence. It was a simple matter to gather the few small personal things he would need as he made his round of the ship, checking that all non-essential systems shut down correctly and that the important ones settled into the correct stand-by sequences.

Satisfied, his check ended at the cockpit where he initiated the final lockdown code and made his way out the main hatch. The hiss of the pressure seal behind him the last sign that everything had gone as it was supposed to. Now the ship would only open to someone with the proper codes and authorization, which as far he knew consisted of himself and Drift.

The map and directions were clear and easy, guiding him through the base in the direction of the med bay. No one tried to stop him, and once there the junior medic on duty pointed him in the direction of the arrangements that had been made for him and informed him that Drift should be out of surgery within two joor, provided there were no complications.

Windswept thanked him and settled down to wait on the double-wide berth where the three swords had been left. His hand drifted over to the weapons to rest on the Great Sword. While he didn't understand the weapon, he knew it was more than a simple _sword_. Warm under his hand without reason, it comforted him as he waited.

~Take good care of him and he'll be a fine mate,~ a low, melodic voice whispered as he drifted between recharge and awareness. ~Take good care of my Drift now that I can not. He needs to be cared for no matter how much he fights it.~

Windswept came around to the junior medic from before calling his designation, the curious words filed away without a thought as his optics came fully online.

"Keepsafe is done working on Drift and has lifted the forced stasis. They're letting him come out of it on his own. But Keepsafe suggested that you might like to be close by with that-" the medic's optics ghosted over the sword quickly. "When he came out of it."

"Wise." Windswept commented. "Thank you." He stood carefully before lifting the sword. "Which room?"

"Two," the med-tech motioned to it. "He'll be fine, and she said to tell you she didn't fix the 'old damage' as he requested last time, but if he's changed his mind, she has the parts."

"I will tell him." Windswept murmured, suddenly anxious to be at Drift's side as he shifted his grip on the sword and stepped around the medic. The door to recovery room two opened for him without issue and he felt himself relax at the first sight of his master, whole and resting peacefully. As he neared to place the Great Sword at Drift's side, the gentle hum of his master's field, content in a fully repaired frame, made his hum contentedly in reply.

Even though Drift was still deep in recharge, his field reached out for both his Great Sword and Windswept.

With a sigh Windswept tucked the sword against Drift's side, then scooted a chair as close to the berth as he could. Folding his frame into it with ease, the blue mech leaned on the berth. His field reached out to mesh with his master's to calm both of them while Drift rested.

Content and still lacking in recharge himself, Windswept drifted off in the temporary peace of the private medical room.

Automatic protocols roused him when Drift's systems began to power up. It was testament to how low on recharge he was that Drift's hand found his helm and began to stroke it gently before Windswept was fully on line.

"Should be resting." He protested before his processor was completely functioning, reaching up to catch Drift's hand in his own, even as warmth seeped into his field at the display of affection.

"Been resting for orns," Drift grumbled, though he made no effort to move for a moment. "You haven't been," he said more softly, his fingers sliding along the finials and contours of Windswept's helm.

Windswept finally leaned into the touch, happiness causing his systems to purr in contentment. "There were other things more important than recharge." He finally concluded.

Drift hummed, knowing exactly what the mech was talking about. His fingers never completely stilled as he sat up and shifted to sheath his swords. Then he shifted to one side of the berth. "Come up."

Though it was an order as far as Windswept's coding was concerned, he'd been around his master long enough to recognize the _care_ in the tone, that the 'order' was given for Windswept's comfort, not Drift's desires other than to see his companion comfortable.

Windswept was on the berth in an instant, his frame pressed against Drift's and his field already weaving with the larger mech's, seeking to reassure once more that Drift was whole again, at least in frame.

No matter how often it might occur in the future, no matter how many times Windswept had seen Drift injured in the past, it was something he was never going to be okay with.

A low, wordless sound emanated from Drift's chest, vibrating the space between with a reassuring resonance before Drift's vents sighed out a contented sound and he began to power down. With the resonance of Wing's sword against his back and Windswept against his side and chest, Drift willingly sank deep into recharge with his systems tuned to rouse when his companion did.

* * *

Windswept took in the rec room as he stepped inside. It was mid-morning local time, so there were only a handful of mecha about and no one in line for energon. Keepsafe had shooed him away so she could speak with Drift in private, something his master seemed less than pleased by. Yet he had nodded agreement to her order that left Windswept at loose ends for a while.

While he had spent most of the stay at the base in Drift's presence, and his master had yet to be released from the med bay, no one had forbidden him from wandering around and exploring. With his natural sense of curiosity Windswept had set out and eventually found his way here.

He looked around the room again before deciding on a course of action. Fetching himself a cube of energon he settled in a relatively out of the way spot to watch and listen. It was a chance to see how other mecha lived in a somewhat normal environment.

It never occurred to him that equating 'normal' with a military installation was in any way odd or disturbing to most Autobots.

"Hey there, you're a new faceplate," a cheerful voice greeted him from one side as a chair was pulled out and a well-built mid-sized frontliner sat down. "I'm Shearwater," the dark green and blue mech offered a hand in greeting.

"Windswept." The blue mech reached out, returning the greeting easily. The grip on his hand was strong but not aggressive, and the small surge of tension that had risen with the arrival of the stranger dissipated quickly.

"So what brings you to this middle of nowhere hole in the wall base?" Shearwater grinned at him and relaxed back in his chair. "Don't get many Neutrals out this way, at least not that get free run of the place."

Windswept took a drink of his energon before responding, finding himself growing more at ease quickly in the presence of the friendly mech. "My master needed medical treatment, and this was the closest facility. We'll probably be moving on as soon as Keepsafe releases him."

Shearwater cocked his head, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "Who's your master?"

"Drift." If he thought there was anything out of the ordinary about the arrangement it was not evident in Windswept's response.

The frontliner settled a bit and hummed, concealing his concern for the time being in favor of gaining intel. Even as a frontliner, he understood the value of good intel, be it gossip or blackmail material. "How'd he come to be your master?"

"A debt owed. He saved the life of a noble, and my frame was commissioned and my spark requested by the noble to settle the debt."

Shearwater's optic ridges shot up, the shock now clear on his features. "You're ... serious." He said dumbly, then recovered himself and leaned forward with a lecherous grin. "Is he a good master?" He asked, low and offering to keep a secret.

"I have no desire to be anywhere else than with him." Windswept answered with a shrug, still working through his energon. He had encountered enough surprise surrounding the circumstances of his functioning to know that it wasn't a common existence, but he still did not completely understand the reactions he received.

While he had never known any other life, Windswept was being honest when he told mechs he was happy.

"Sounds like you have it pretty good," Shearwater purred. "Is he as good in the berth as I've heard? Endurance to spare."

"When he chooses to." Windswept was well aware of his master's reputations. "He is very good to me."

"So what does he have you do?" Shearwater asked conversationally, honestly curious but also knowing it was damn important to know before he reported this. "I've never met somebody who had a master before."

"Whatever he needs me to do. At need I can pilot the ship and provide field medical care. For the most part I just see to the orn to orn chores and Drifts personal needs. I was commissioned to serve him and meet any of his anticipated needs, and to be adaptable enough to meet those they had not prepared for."

Shearwater hummed and nodded. "Do you fight? You don't have the vibe, but most non-coms with frontliners tend to be more ... jittery than you."

"I can defend myself if I need to, but I usually only fight if I have to." Windswept willingly admitted that he had a fascination with blades, and that the weight and feel of them in his hands felt just as right now as it did the first time Drift had handed him one.

But unlike his master, there was no satisfaction in fighting, no drive to best an opponent. If Drift asked it if him he would have followed the larger mech into battle, but he never had.

"That's good," Shearwater smiled. "I imagine it comes up with all the missions Drift goes on." He paused and leaned forward a bit. "Does he share you?"

"Sometimes, but only if it is someone I have an interest in as well." Windswept told him.

"So what are your tastes?" Shearwater purred, extending his field to caress Windswept's to display his interest in the smaller mech.

"Depends on who I am with." No stranger to the interest, Windswept's field remained neutral, not reaching out in return but not pulling back in immediate rejection either. Experience had taught him that this was the safest initial response. 

Though it also occurred to him that this was the first time that he had ever had someone display an interest in him when his master was not at least in the same room.

"Care to come to my quarters for high grade and some fun, then?" Shearwater asked, hopeful and decidedly interested, but careful not to be too pushy with his field. "I'll show you a good time until Drift is turned loose."

"Thank you, but I think I'll return to the med bay after I am done with this." Windswept held up his half finished energon. "There was hope that Keepsafe would let him go later this orn."

"Aww, okay," Shearwater didn't hide his disappointment, but neither did he hide that he wasn't bothered by being turned down. "Will you be staying long, after he's released?"

"I don't know. It may well depend on if there is another mission waiting for him." Personally Windswept wished that Drift would take some time to rest, but his wishes and Drift's did not always run parallel.

And Drift's always won.

A low grumble of Shearwater's engine greeted that. "There's always another mission for mecha like him. Even if the war was over, they'd keep him _busy_. Like the Wreckers he used to roll with, he's too scary to the officers not to keep occupied."

Windswept frowned, not commenting on that, or how much the idea troubled him.

"You know, if you can catch Keepsafe alone, she's usually pretty agreeable to sticking a mecha on light duty for a few orns if they need the rest, even if there isn't a _medical_ need for it," Shearwater suggested. "Someone like Drift she'd probably give a decaorn or two to just because she knows how hard upper command works them."

"I...will remember that. Thank you." Windswept was constantly searching for ways to look after his master's well-being when Drift refused to. Since he seemed to have some level of respect for the medic orders from her to rest coupled without a set task might actually get Drift to take some down time.

"You're welcome," he smiled in reply. "It'd be nice to get to _watch_ a warrior like Drift spar. I hear he's amazing with blades."

"More than amazing." Windswept had yet to see his master's equal, and being allowed to watch his master train, even alone when he was only going through forms, was one of the blue mech's small personal pleasures.

Shearwater hummed, a flicker of excitement at the prospect of getting to watch dancing in his field. "Have you seen him with any other swordmecha? There may not be many, but I know a few are around."

"Not any that could be considered his equal." 

With a low chuckle Shearwater grinned at him. "I don't doubt it. Does he even think there are any close to his equal?"

"Not are still among the living, and designations that he mentions that I have never heard anyone else refer to." Windswept admitted.

"Who?" Shearwater was genuinely interested now. "I'm something of a personal combat historian. I know most swordmecha worth knowing about."

"Wing is the only designation I've heard him refer to consistently. I think he was a...friend." Windswept explained, the sadness that even he felt at the mention of the mech that had existed before him coloring hi field for a moment.

Even if he had never known the mech, the pain that Drift still felt at the loss was enough to trouble Windswept. It was the one pain in his master's life that he could seem to do nothing to ease.

"Wing." Shearwater rolled the designation over his glossa, testing it for every nuance. He frowned. "Just a klik," he murmured to Windswept before comming a friend in SpecOps. ::I'm getting _weird_ stuff off this one. You make sense of it?::

::City of origin: New Crystal City. Never heard of it, but that's what it says,:: Quickwit came back. ::Creator: Dai Atlas. Creator: Axe. _Those_ two are in the records.::

::I know of them,:: Shearwater murmured. ::There isn't a frontliner on either side that doesn't know of Dai Atlas, even now. Axe wasn't anyone to scoff at either. Pit of a lineage.::

::Method: Circle of Swords ... what the pit?::

::That's what I thought, but if they weren't on Cybertron for his creation, I guess it makes sense that they found a new way to summon sparks. Still, weird, don't you think?::

::Very. Where'd this come from?:: Quickwit demanded.

::Apparently he was Drift's 'friend' a while back, at least according to the darling little mech I'm chatting up now. Probably the same one that rebuilt Deadlock into Drift and trained him up like that.::

::Interesting. Maybe Drift will need to stick around a bit,:: Quickwit murmured.

::He will,:: Shearwater's voice grew hard. ::Windswept calls him 'master'. Something is not right here.::

::Agreed. I'll ping Keepsafe with it,:: he sighed. ::Here's hoping it's just noble programming and not _Drift_ that is insisting on that.::

"Would you like to know about Wing?" Shearwater focused on the conversation. "I don't know him, but I know how to read designations fully."

"I..." Windswept stared at him for a moment, the nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

Deep down it was something that he had always wondered about, this mech that had been so special to Drift. But he had never dared ask. To be able to find out more might also provide more insights to the mech his master had once been, and to the mech he was now.

"He's from a place called New Crystal City, which isn't in our database," Shearwater began easily. "His creators are Dai Atlas and Axe, who are both well-known warriors from old times, though neither fought in this war. Dai Atlas was very well known from Nova Prime's expansion campaigns, and dropped out of the military only towards the end of it. Not much was heard of him after that."

If he had wanted Windswept's full attention he had it, the mech hanging on his every word already as small things started to fall into place.

"Wing is not a warrior designation like Deadlock, Shearwater ... or even Drift. It speaks more of freedom, of flight, of precision and loyalty. The designation of a near-Seeker, an Order, the trine leader. There is a note about taking in dangerous strays, and ... he's quite young," he added softly. "There is a final note in it, one I'm sure Drift added rather than Wing's creators. It's in a slightly different dialect of designations, that of the Decepticon warrior caste. He was deactivated protecting Drift, and was avenged. Drift also credited Wing with the re-sparking of Drift from Deadlock's shattered frame."

Windswept's optics flickered as he considered all that he had just learned. It made a great many things clear, and also matched up with what little Drift had told him, and what Windswept had been able to piece together on his own.

Several nanokliks later a soft sound escaped the blue mech and he focused once more on his current company. "Thank you."

A soft smiled and gentle brush of his field came from the warrior. "I hope it helps you take care of him. Mecha needs it." He hesitated. "I can do the same with Drift's designation. There's a lot there, more than he probably realizes."

Windswept hesitated, so very tempted to delve deeper into his master's history, especially when the picture he had was so disjointed. "I would like to know, if you have the time to spare."

"I do," he promised and turned his full attention to dissecting the designation he'd been working on since he first heard it. "He was sparked a factory worker, but decommissioned within orns. I know that means he was on the street within a decaorn of being sparked. That he survived is a testament to his will to survive more than any skills his intended function might have given him. Would have done anything and probably everything to manage enough energon to power up after recharge. It's not an easy existence," his voice dropped even lower. "Had to do it myself a few times, when I was down on my luck, but I at least knew it was temporary. I had skills for real work, even if I couldn't always find it. I doubt he had any such hope.

"I expect it's how he ended up a Con. Mecha has a gift for violence. They would have courted him pretty hard. Megatron himself gave him the designation of Deadlock, or so it says. Made the rank of sub-Lieutenant and on the fast track to Megatron's inner circle. Pretty damn proud of it too.

"Then Turmoil, something bad went down. Betrayal, turning away from Deadlock and what it meant. Wing came next, and nearly dying. The last big event marker is Wing's deactivation." Shearwater paused again, uncertain he wanted to _say_ it, but plunged ahead anyway. "Wing is incorporated the way a spark-mate, a bonded is, but informally. Whether they really did the deed or not, Wing was that important to him."

"I had wondered as much, though I don't think they did." Windswept murmured quietly, the echoes of a half remembered voice and gentle request that he care for Drift still floating in the back of his processor. "Thank you, again. It is nice to have more insight not colored by the opinions of others."

Shearwater inclined his helm. "Reading designations fully is a rare skill these orns, but it's one you can pick up by datafile. It might be one you'd find useful to learn while killing time between battles."

From what he had learned in the last joor, Windswept was inclined to agree. He made a note to find the files that would allow him to acquire the skill and marked it as his next personal project. It was of interest to him and might well prove useful to Drift as they traveled. Knowing that much of a mecha from just their designation could provide an edge in so many situations.

"Windswept," Drift's voice was even as he walked up to the table and sat down next to the blue mech. "I see you found company."

"Yes." The blue mech agreed simply as he leaned against Drift, field brushing lightly against the larger mechs questioningly and found good humor and approval in his master as their fields meshed with easy acceptance. "And you have managed to escape yours?"

"For now," Drift nuzzled him, then tipped Windswept's face up to kiss him with a hot, intense claim for all to see.

None of them could miss the hard rev of Shearwater's engine or the way the warrior's field flared with desire at the display. His optics were locked on Drift however, the draw of the exotic warrior one he couldn't resist and wasn't trying to.

"We'll be here for a few orns," Drift murmured as their mouths parted slightly.

"Good." Windswept replied, an edge of amusement rippling through his field as he added a comm message as well. ::Shearwater. An admirer of yours.::

::And do you find him appealing enough to invite him to join us in the berth, or should I visit his instead?:: Drift's amusement flickered up as well.

::He's welcome in ours. I like him. :: Windswept nuzzled against him, lifting his face for another kiss, not above teasing the mech seated across the table from them a bit. Neither was Drift, and he knew it. A soft moan escaped Windswept when Drift shifted to draw him into his lap and wrapped his arms around him, apparently oblivious to the rest of the room.

A soft whine came from nearby as Shearwater struggled to cool his rapidly heating systems. He wasn't the only one either. All around the room mecha were focused on the lovers and the open display.

Windswept pressed against the larger frame, sharing warmth as his field teased at Drift's playfully, using this in place of touch that meant little to the other mech. "Yours." He purred softly.

Drifts, to use as he pleased. To take pleasure in, to dominate and care for as Windswept knew he did. To show off his possession of, as Drift clearly took pleasure and amusement in doing.

"Mine," Drift growled, hungry and eager. His hands moved over Windswept's frame, stroking the fire building in his lover. Pale blue optics locked onto Shearwater. "But I share, unless you'd rather have me alone."

"I ... uh ... _whimper_ " was about all the dark green and blue mech could manage. "Yes." He finally got out, his vents wide open and fans high.

Drift simply chuckled and nudged Windswept to move so they could stand. "Then come on. Windswept likes you enough."

As fast as the words registered, Shearwater was on his pedes and following the affectionate pair like a love-starved puppy.

Windswept didn't leave his place at Drift's side until they reached the ship, where he finally untangled himself enough to enter the codes and authorizations to the place that he had essentially come to consider home. For 'a few orns' Drift wouldn't bother moving their personal affects to guest quarters, offered or not. There was too much security in their ship, too many vorns of customization and modifications, legal, registered and otherwise.

Wing's Spark was _safe_.

Windswept stepped back as the hatch opened, affectionate optics on Drift. The blue mech's field vibrated with anticipation and joy even if he was visibly calm. The eagerness, arousal and desire that flared back from Drift was enough to make him shiver before he followed his master inside, Shearwater obediently taking up the rear.

If Shearwater was at all interested the ship he was far too distracted by the mechs in front of him for his optics to wander for long as Drift led the way to the berthroom. His gaze was locked on Drift's aft for the most part.

That was right up until the berthroom door closed and Drift turned on him, pinning him to the wall with a move smooth and swift enough the frontliner didn't even sense it coming. The tension melted almost immediately as Drift's mouth claimed his, demanding submission and receiving it.

Windswept retreated to the berth, purring softly at the display he was allowed to watch. He loved watching his master, especially at play, and his systems heated in anticipation.

No matter who they were with, before they were done Drift always made sure whoever they were sharing with knew exactly who Windswept belonged to, and the small blue mech loved every second of it.

When Drift released Shearwater's mouth he whispered to the dark green and blue mech and received a dazed databurst in reply.

"First you satisfy my lovely Windswept, then I'll work on you," Drift purred a promise he had every intention of keeping.

The blue mech on the berth sat up, optics lighting in excitement as understood how his master wished this to go. This was always fun, and usually resulted with a very satisfied and very impressed berth partner.

As soon as Shearwater's attention shifted to him he motioned toward the berth, inviting the other mech to join him as his studied the other frame, already planning. The invitation was taken immediately, Shearwater's frame already hot and charged from the kiss, contact and promise from Drift.

"What makes you hot?" Shearwater asked with a deep rev of his engine. "That I can do."

Windswept pressed his frame against the larger mech, heat and fields blending together and revealing just how hot the blue mech was already running. He claimed the others mech lips in a kiss, gentler but only slightly less demanding than the white mech Shearwater had just left.

"Touch me, all over my frame." Windswept demanded before his glossa invaded the other mechs mouth, exploring. 

Moans of pleasure started to come from the berth as Shearwater obeyed, hands running almost at random over the blue armor, paying special attention to the places that caused Windswept's field to flare. It all felt so good, but it didn't take long before Shearwater's hands found Windswept's spike cover and stroked it, encouraging the blue mech to open it.

"Let me suck you off," Shearwater moaned as he broke the kiss. "Want to taste you."

The cover sprang aside with little encouragement, anticipation racing through Windswept's field and pushing at the other mech as he settled back. "I think that sounds like wonderful idea."

With a grin and rumble of his engine, Shearwater kissed his way down Windswept's chassis, taking his time to tease a few sensitive spots before laying a gentle kiss on the tip of the fully pressurized spike. "Tell me what you like," he asked before swirling his glossa around the tip.

"Slow." Windswept shuddered, his hands stroking lightly over the other mech's helm. He wanted to enjoy this, wanted to feel and savor every rare sensation he was being granted. He felt the smile on Shearwater's lips plates as a slow, whispered series of kisses was bestowed on his spike, slowly traveling from tip to base.

Then a teasing glossa traveled back up, taking the time to sample all sides with tiny licks.

The exploration drew a series of soft encouraging sounds from Windswept as his spike was slowly stimulated, the entire experience so different from what he was used to.

He loved it when his master took him hard and fast. Loved it when Drift dominated him and used his frame. Loved the way that Drift would 'order' him to do things they both knew Windswept wanted to because of the turn on it was for them both.

But the blue mech also existed for moments like this. Times where his focus centered on a slow pleasure that was almost torture, and he moaned.

"Beautiful," Shearwater murmured at the response before kissing and licking his way down the exquisitely crafted shaft once more. As badly as he wanted more, wanted to be finished with Windswept so Drift would finally take him, his own pride as a lover kept him going at the torturously slow pace. It was so unlike anything he was used to.

Frontliners just didn't take their time, didn't relish what _lovemaking_ could really be in all it's glory, even between strangers. How long had it been since Shearwater had a tryst that _wanted_ him to go so slow?

It was a reawakening of sensations new and forgotten for both of them as Windswept's hands continued to caress the unfamiliar helm and face, encouraging Shearwater with touch and voice. It felt _so_ good, and the pleasure only intensified as Shearwater finally took the top half of the sensor rich head between his lips and began to kiss it, long, slow and intimately with lips and glossa.

For Windswept, the intense flares of his master's field, the intense arousal that watching this caused, was nearly as good as the physical attention.

He still drew true pleasure from Drift's pleasure, and even in this he could feel how his master was enjoying the slow slide of lips and glossa over spike almost as much as he was. He knew the soft moans and whimpers, the involuntary twitching of his hips as he resisted thrusting into that torturously good mouth, was something his master relished watching at times.

The longer the build-up, the more intense the claiming was when his master took him back.

That thought drew another, deeper moan from Windswept, his hands tightening for a moment on Shearwater's helm and directing some of his attention back to the mech actually bringing him the pleasure.

"Good. So very kind." He murmured, meaning what he was saying as he his field carried how much he was enjoying this and the promise of what was to come for both of them still. "Being so good to me for my master."

The flare in Shearwater's field was all the answer the dark mech could give with his mouth full of Windswept's spike. He had no intention of giving up his treat, or in treating it with any less reverence that he would a high-grade energon jelly of the finest crafting.

That thought sent a shiver though Shearwater. His mind briefly wandered to the one time he had managed to get his hands on the incredibly rare treat, the way it tasted, the way it slowly melted on his glossa, the charge it sent through his system as the liquid high grade center burst into his mouth.

A low whimper escaped him before he managed to focus on what he was doing once more.

The groan as Windswept's control finally slipped enough that his hips rolled into the next slide of glossa over his spike. The first faints crackles of charge from the building energy passing between them, and the whispered admission of "Close."

"Good," Drift's voice was low and _very_ aroused, the heat of his pleasure rolling off him in potent waves that made both mechs on the berth with him shiver.

Without hesitation Shearwater stopped teasing and dove on the spike, taking it all the way down his intake until his lip plates were pressed against the housing ring. He swallowed, then again, working his intake around the spike and twitching with each little zap of the building charge as it passed between them.

Windswept's optics cycled back to full brightness, focusing on Drift over the mech bringing him such pleasure as he thrust into the skilled mouth. From the very beginning this was how it had always been, no matter who he was with or how good they were, in the end Windswept only had optics for his master.

Another moan from Windswept as the charge built. He was so very close to the edge, but still wanted to hold on just a little longer, to draw this out for everyone involved and make the most of the now.

With a hungry smile, Drift watched, judging the state of his lover. He knew what Windswept was waiting for, but he also knew the lovely mech liked to be forced to hold off until he could barely stand it anymore. It was a delicious game of control between them, one Drift had come to enjoy a great deal for the intensity that rolled off of Windswept whenever he played it right.

Windswept's mouth opened, sucking in air when his intakes couldn't draw in enough. His optics were bright enough he probably couldn't really see anymore. His frame jerked and twitched, desperate for the release he was being denied.

"Overload for me," Drift finally purred, his voice a seductive whisper as he reached out to spread his fingers over the armor covering Windswept's spark in a physical claim.

There was no coherency in the cry of release that escaped the smaller mech, his chest pressing into the touch as the overload finally roared through his frame. The surge of energy was everywhere, crackling across his frame, flaring through his field and carrying through transfluid willingly swallowed by his current partner.

So intense that as the energy started to dissipate Windswept's frame collapsed, the blue mech lacking the strength to hold himself completely upright in the immediate aftermath.

"Beautiful," Drift purred as he leaned forward to kiss Windswept, a light, affectionate touch that demanded nothing but to be accepted and enjoyed. Eventually he turned to the trembling green and blue mech still kneeling between Windswept's legs. "You've done well. Now I will reward you for it."

A soft whimper of anticipation as Shearwater pulled off the spike he had just enjoyed, pausing long clean the last few traces of transfluid from it in acknowledgment of the whispered thanks from Windswept before his entire focus centered on Drift. Hopeful optics matched the longing in the field that reached out to brush against the warrior mech. "Please."

Shearwater was absolutely compliant as Drift angled his aft up and his chest down where Windswept could watch their hips pound together. With a low rumble of anticipation Drift slammed his hips forward, spreading Shearwater's valve as he buried himself with a single thrust.

The blue and green mech cried out as his back arched, fingers digging into the berth. A moment of adjustment and he was already rocking back into the contact, begging for more.

With a growl of approval Drift began pounding into him, stretching and filling his valve with a relentless pounding. Every thrust at a slightly different angle to strike different sensor clusters. Strong fingers dug into Shearwater's hips, holding him steady and pulling him back against the demanding thrusts.

"You. Are. Mine." Drift leaned forward and growled at him. "I'm going to 'face you into stasis," he added with a promise.

A moan of anticipation was the instant response, desire and want evident in every inch of he mech underneath him. "Yes. Please. Take. Use." Shearwater pleaded with each thrust that rocked him forward on the berth.

It was everything he had imagined from the moment he had laid optics on the white mech, everything he had hoped for from the moment he had been invited back to the berth the warrior shared with his lover that was now watching them with an appreciative light in his optics.

"Overload," Drift's harsh growl demanded. "Often."

He had barely made his demanded when Shearwater keened his first overload, overcome by the dominant field pushing at his own and the extensive charge that had already built in his systems. On some level he was aware that Drift hadn't overloaded, that he was still thrusting, but the first real thing that registered consciously was that Drift wasn't even that close yet and he was going to be so wonderfully sore by the time the swordmech let him go.

He moaned, inarticulate sounds of pure pleasure as he regained some sort of equilibrium and rocked back into each thrust. If this was what the small blue mech got to enjoy regularly no wonder he said he was content.

Coherent thought began to falter as the charge built in his systems once again to crashing through him when Drift managed to strike a particularly dense bunch of sensors.

Above him Drift moaned, nearly a growl as his own charge finally built to his limit. With a few more hard thrusts, his fingers denting the metal of Shearwater's hips as he roared and pumped hot transfluid into the mech's eager valve.

Shearwater cried out and would have fallen if not for the firm hold on his hips as Drift's release set triggered another overload on the heels of the one still lighting up his circuits. As he started to come down it was all the frontliner could do to collapse, contentment and awe flooding through him.

"Sated already?" Drift's voice held amusement and definite satisfaction as he pulled out and rolled Shearwater to his back to claim a demanding kiss. "Then you can watch as I sate myself."

"Please." The other mech's optics lit in anticipation. He might be spent, but he _liked_ watching, and he had the feeling that this would be a show worth watching.

Especially with the eager moan of anticipation that had come from Windswept's direction at Drift's declaration.


	6. Unwelcome Attention

The music flowed through him, guiding his motions without conscious consideration on his part. He had danced before, but always in private for his own enjoyment or his master's pleasure. Music and motion had always gone hand in hand for him, and it had taken only a little highgrade and some encouragement for Windswept to take his chance on the stage for the amateur night.

This was a new experience, and it was exhilarating. He could feel the optics of the crowd on him, following his every move. Occasional comments and calls of appreciation rose over the music, pushing him even more.

But in the end all that mattered were the clear blue optics of his master, and the possessive approval he could see in them. There was hunger there as well, and it sent a shiver through Windswept as the music drew to an end, and with it his turn on the stage. A nod of recognition of the applause for his performance, and he made his way down to rejoin Drift.

"Hey there, lovely," the slightly slurred greeting caught Windswept's attention before a large red mech was in his path, leering at him. "You're new."

"And only here for tonight." Windswept informed him, attempting to step around the stranger in the crowded conditions of the small bar.

"So how much for a private dance?" the stranger got down to business. "Maintenance on a frame as fine as your must be expensive."

It actually took a moment for Windswept to process what the mech was proposing and form a response. "Not for sale." He replied stiffly, trying another route of escape. He could see Drift's immediate response to his change in posture. The white mech swung to his pedes and stalked towards them, his field enough to make everyone in his path move away.

"Anybody who moves like that has a price," the red mech insisted, leaning in towards Windswept.

Finding his path blocked once more Windswept looked up into the overbright optics of the mech in his way. "For your own sake I suggest you leave."

"Or what?" the mech scowled and reached out to grab Windswept's arm. "Just give your price and stop playing hard to get."

"My master does not always share well." Windswept replied to the what, flinching as the grip on his arm grew tighter the more he struggled to free himself.

The flash of a blade above Windswept's optic level and the grip went limp just before the large mech did. His master's optics were on him as the short sword was sheathed, taking him in, making sure there was no serious damage before he stepped over the red mech and drew Windswept close.

"He'll need a medic," Drift said coolly as security reached the scene. "He's only paralyzed."

The two mecha who had responded to the brief commotion looked from the downed mech to Drift, and then to the smaller blue mech pressed against Drift's side. 

"Reason ya felt the need to take him out?" One really didn't mess with pressing charges in a place like this, and in reality neither one of the security mechs was interested in having to do much more than politely ask Drift if he would leave, but he still had to ask in light of the fact that there were other patrons to consider.

"He wouldn't take no for an answer," Drift said stiffly, trying to rein in his growl. "I protect what's mine."

Curious optics settled on Windswept once more. "Yours? He just put on one pit of a show. Poor glitch probably wasn't the only thinkin' 'bout asking him for more."

His partner grunted in agreement before rising to clear a path through the crowd for the medical assistance called for the down mech.

"Asking is fine," Drift pointed out. "There was every expectation we'd leave with a playmate for the evening, but one that Windswept _wanted_. _Insisting_ my mate is for sale and frightening him is very much another."

Understanding dawned, and with it acceptance. Both mechs had every right to be insulted and as long as no long-term damage was done, Drift had not over-reacted much.

"What's your designation?" the medic glanced up.

"Drift."

"Thought so," he grunted as he reattached a few wires and soldered them in place. "Not many could make that cut." He looked at security. "He'll be fine. Just needs to recharge off the overcharge and get the patch checked in a couple orns. Less damage done than fists usually cause."

"Someone we should know?" one of the bouncers glanced between medic and Drift, who shrugged.

"Only if you follow swordsmecha," the medic chuckled as he finished his work. "My mate's fascinated by ancient weapons and those who use them. So I know of most of them."

He finished with the surface fixes that would aid the self-repair routines of the downed mech and patted him, even if the larger mech couldn't feel it. "There. Best call a transport and have someone haul him home. His systems are not going to be pleased with him next orn after tonight."

One of the bouncers nodded and opened a comm line to do just that as the medic stood.

Bright purple optics turned to Drift. "I don't suppose I could impose on you to make a breem to see my mate before you leave Iacon?" the medic asked, offering Drift a datachip. "Just give a call if you're free."

Drift stood stock still, too stunned to really react for a moment before he accepted the chip and subspaced it. "I don't know yet," he gave himself an out. "I'll comm if I have a breem or two to spare."

"Thanks," the medic beamed at just the possibility. "I'm Standup. Mate's Snapturn."

Windswept remained pressed against his side as they settled the bill, the smaller mech turning down an offer for more stage time for as long as they were in Iacon, and out onto the street. This late in the orn they had missed most of the rush traffic and the rest of the tension drained from him as he nuzzled against Drift in thanks.

"His mate really would appreciate that visit."

"We'll see if there's time," Drift hugged him a little closer, his fingers gently stroking where they landed. "I don't intend to leave while you're being worked on."

"Worked on?" Windswept repeated, leaning into the touch and openly curious.

"It's why I arranged this trip, why I came back to Cybertron at all," Drift said quietly. "Ratchet's made time to go over your programming and try to remove the loyalty and obedience protocols, and pretty much just that." He paused and tipped Windswept's helm up to kiss him before resting their forehelms together. "I _need_ you to be free to choose, even if it changes none of your choices."

Windswept's optics went dark as he thought about that, trembling running through his entire frame as he faced his deepest personal fear once again. "You won't send me away." He pleaded, looking for reassurance as he pressed his frame against Drift's. 

"No," Drift promised, meshing their fields in reassurance. "I like having you with me. But a slave ... I _can't_ let that be."

There was so much there left unsaid, so much that Drift couldn't bring himself to think, much less say. The intensity of it shown clearly in his field and voice.

"I need you free to choose," he repeated softly. "It's not something to fear. It's why I fight, why I didn't stay with Wing."

Windswept nodded slowly against Drift, understanding even if he didn't _want_ to. With a shudder he forced his processor to follow the familiar pattern that would make this easier to deal with.

His master wanted this, needed this. Therefore it was something that Windswept needed to see to. His master's happiness was first priority in his existence. If having the medic alter Windswept's code would please Drift, then Windswept would do it and be happy about it.

The trembling stopped and the stress melted away as that settled and Windswept looked up at Drift again. "When am I to see him?"

"Ninth joor tomorrow," Drift murmured, then lightly urged him to continue walking. "Ratchet's the best still functioning, even if he is grouchy. Come. Let's get to the ship. Enjoy the night and recharge."

Windswept moved along willingly, though he stayed close enough for his field to remain in contact with Drift's. That contact, the promise of a night at _home_ , had meant safety for almost the entirety of the blue mechs function, and he needed that. So did the affection and support he could feel from the mech next to him. Drift felt good, but even buzzed on highgrade the mech had lost most of his arousal.

Tonight was going to be light on interfacing and heavy on snuggling.

* * *

Drift powered up from recharge after less than a joor. He kissed Windswept's forehelm and whispered, "Recharge. I'm going to meditate," when the smaller mech tried to rouse. With his lover ... and Drift could admit after over fourteen vorns together that Windswept was his _lover_ ... settled again, Drift got up and picked up Too Pure For This World before kneeling with Wing's Great Sword resting on his upper legs.

He shut his optics off and contemplated himself, his behavior. Windswept hadn't changed him, not much. His presence had merely highlighted what had already happened, what was continuing to happen.

He'd been infected by alien code, an alien spark.

As unsettling as the changes and ideas were, the very concept was, Drift couldn't find it in himself to object. It was _Wing's_ coding. It was _Wing's_ spark infecting his own. It was _Wing_ he was becoming more like by the orn.

It didn't matter how many hundreds of centuries had passed since the three and a half vorns he'd spent with the playful white jet. How small a blip in his lifetime Wing's presence became, it was that small time that had rewritten everything that Drift was, everything he wanted, his very understanding of himself.

If Megatron's call to him, giving him the designation of Deadlock was the turning point in his existence before Wing, Wing was the first to make a fundamental change in how Drift _thought_.

It felt good.

* * *

On the berth, Windswept roused to his code recognizing a noticeable shift in his master's field and systems. For the first time since Windswept had met him, Drift seemed to be at peace ... or at least closer to it.

Basking in the strange feeling that soothed some of his own fears Windswept curled up on the berth facing his master to keep watch. Physically it was no different from the thousands upon thousands of times he'd watched his master meditate, but he could _feel_ the difference. Something Drift had been struggling as long as Windswept had known him was settled.

Was it pending Windswept's coding change? If so, it was _very_ worth it. Drift almost seemed _relaxed_. Not in the exhausted sated way, but at peace with reality.

"You can recharge longer," Drift's voice was low and calm. "Another two joors before we need to get ready."

"I'm fine." Windswept murmured in reply. "Like being like this." He added, all truth. The dim berth room, the presence of his master so close by and nothing in the moment to trouble them.

Though Windswept couldn't see it, he felt the small smile that crossed Drift's features before the white mech stood in a smooth motion and put the Great Sword in his hanger before returning to the berth. With a small smile still in place, he sat on the berth and reached out to stroke over Windswept's spark, still deep in thought.

The smaller mech pressed into the touch before rising to snuggle his frame against his master's, joy at his master's current state of peace radiating from him. It made Drift smile a little more and draw Windswept closer.

"Are you ready for the orn?" Drift asked gently, wanting to address Windswept's fears before Ratchet heard them.

A shudder ran through the smaller mech and he leaned more into the comforting frame somehow. The honest answer was no, the truth was that he was terrified at the change before him. But fighting with that was the idea that change would bring a measure of peace to his master.

"I am ready to make you happy." He finally whispered, true in the fact that it was a constant.

"What are you afraid of?" Drift asked more directly, now well accustomed to having to pry such information out.

A ripple of shame came from Windswept, edged with fear. "That you will no longer want me around." That without a reason to keep him close, without a reason to feel responsible for Windswept that Drift would send him away.

To Windswept the idea of being parted from the mech his whole existence had revolved around for his entire functioning was terrifying. In all of the traveling with Drift he had found nothing that he wanted to do more than be with the white mech, to see Drift content and happy. 

That desire came from his very _spark_ , and had nothing to do with any sort of programming.

"If I had any intention of sending you away, I would have done so early on and the obedience programming would have made it much easier," Drift pointed out rather gently. "I want it gone because I want you to _choose_ me because you _want_ this functioning with me, not because you can't contemplate leaving. This isn't an easy functioning, Windswept, or a safe one. It will never be any better. Violence is my gift. It will be my end as well, long before either of us are old."

Windswept tilted his head up, silently asking for and receiving a gentle kiss before he answered. 

"You never ordered me to stay." He pointed out quietly as his field mingled soothingly with the larger mechs.

"Wing would never forgive me for that," Drift pointed out.

" _Wanted_ to stay." While it was the true that when he thought about it now the potential for Drift to be angry with him if he were to leave was enough to engage the programming and instill in him the desire to remain, it was not something that Windswept had considered in vorns. Not since right after he had been given to Drift.

"Without the obedience programming, _I_ can know that," Drift said. "As long as it's there, you don't have a choice."

"Not going to change anything." Except for reassuring Drift, which was the only reason that Windswept wasn't fighting it. "Still going to stay as long as you will let me." He sighed against Drift.

There was nothing that was going to completely ease his spark until the deed was done and Windswept found himself back in Drift's arms, but for the moment he comforted himself with the promises of the larger mech.

Drift had always been good to him. Drift had always been truthful. And so Windswept would trust him now.

"I hope it doesn't," Drift admitted, holding his lover close. "I like having you."

"Like being with you." Windswept murmured in reply, stretching up to kiss Drift and focusing on the now as he pushed his fears aside.

* * *

Drift stepped into Ratchet's office in the primary Autobot hospital in Iacon, Windswept a cautious step behind him.

"Finally, someone who shows up on time," the white and red medic looked up at the pair. "Sit. We have some things to discus."

Windswept glanced at Drift before taking a seat in the one of the available chairs at his master's nod of encouragement. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat anyway, one optic on the door as he fought with the desire to bolt. Drift's presence at his side helped, but didn't dispel the urge completely.

"Your slave coding is as intricate and integrated as any I've seen since Mirage before Jazz got his hands on him, only even more pervasive in effect," Ratchet grumbled. "I expect it was expected that society would keep a second creation partially in check, while with you they figured the code would have to do 100% of the work."

"But can you remove it?" Drift was focused.

"Yes, and without doing any damage," Ratchet glared at the white mech, pleased when he saw the subtle signs of a flinch at the reprimand. Not that many could have, but after a millennia working with some of the hardest to read mecha in existence, he could. "We have the preliminary rewrites finished, but a job this complex will take at least a decaorn, possibly longer depending on how well it settles."

Windswept stared at the medic, surprise distracting him from his personal fear and discomfort. He hadn't realized that so much of his programming was apparently centered around obeying Drift. The warrior had made it sound like the removal would be a simple process, quick and painless. To have to stay for a full decaorn....

"Master, if it is going to take so long..."

"That's fine," Drift said firmly. "Just do it _right_."

"I wouldn't do it any other way," Ratchet glared at him for even implying he would do anything else. "I also want you in guest quarters here on base."

"Agreed," Drift accepted the order even if he wasn't keen on it.

Windswept squirmed at the exchange, uncomfortable with the idea that he was the reason Drift was going to be forced to endure discomfort. That was not how it was supposed to be. His master's comfort was always supposed to come first...

A shudder ran through him at the conflicting issues. Drift wanted this to happen, so Windswept should be fine with it. But it shouldn't be happening at the expense of Drift's comfort, and Windswept was instantly caught in trying to find a way around the problem.

"Listen to the medic," Drift murmured in his audio. "He ranks us both."

"In this, I rank _Prime_ ," Ratchet snorted, increasingly furious at what the coding was doing to Windswept, and privately rather pleased at the changes he could see in Drift. The mech was becoming quite an exemplary Autobot. "Windswept. Having this code removed is for the best. It shouldn't have been allowed in the first place, but the bottom line is it's not healthy for it to be tampering with your processors. That you're less than fifteen vorns old is definitely to our advantage, but it is still doing to be tricky to remove all the control protocols. Most of the time will be needed to ensure that your processors settle and continue to function well afterwards."

"I understand." Windswept informed him. Understood, but still distressed as his field reached out to Drift and settled with the first brush against the warriors.

The firm resolve in white mech's field to see this through settled much of Windswept's personal discomfort and finally allowed him to focus.

"What are the risks?" Drift asked.

"Worst case? A breakdown from losing the controls and the guides of the coding, or everything scrambling because something rejects the new coding we're going to replace it with." Ratchet told them up front. "If it gets bad enough we would be looking at a total wipe, but the chances of that are very low."

Now Drift went tense, worry creeping into his field for the first time. "How low?"

" _Very_ low," Ratchet said firmly. "As in there's only two cases in recorded history that I'm aware of. There are always risks when mucking around with a mecha's core programming. Thanks to the nobles and pleasurebots, this coding is something I understand intimately well. It is extremely well documented and Windswept's coding follows the standard noble system."

Now it was Windswept's turn as his field brushed against Drift's, full of trust in his master and the medic seated across from them.

"All right, any questions before we start?" Ratchet focused on Windswept.

The smaller mech shook his head, optics still brighter than normal with fear but far calmer than when he had first set pede inside the office.

Ratchet nodded. "You can ask if any come up," he gave explicit permission, knowing many with slave programming required it. "Drift, you can set up your quarters while I get started with Windswept's programming."

Drift nodded, knowing this was coming. He put a supportive hand on Windswept's shoulder. "You can trust Ratchet. He's the best we have."

Windswept nodded and leaned into the touch for a moment before rising to his pedes and turning his attention on Ratchet, expecting that medic would take the lead. He maintained awareness of Drift until his master was beyond the closed door. Then there was another closed door between them as Ratchet led him into a small private treatment room.

"Relax on the berth," Ratchet waved in the general direction of the comfortable-looking berth that took up half the room. "Tell me, was it your idea to get rid of the programming?"

Windswept hesitated as he settled on the berth, buying himself a little time by arranging himself on the berth until he was at least mostly comfortable. 

"It is something I have never considered doing for myself." he finally confessed. "Drift wishes for it to be done."

Ratchet nodded as he fiddled with equipment, his back to Windswept for the moment. "Has he told you why?"

The blue mech sighed softly. "He wishes to be sure that my desire to stay with him is my own choice and not something driven by the coding I was created with."

That got the medic to turn around, his expression surprisingly gentle. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"No one else seems to think so." He looked up at Ratchet, still seeking understanding of something that he couldn't quite wrap his processor around. "I've never wanted anything else."

And it was true. As curious as he was, as much as he was driven to learn and explore, a life not serving Drift had never been something he had considered beyond the abstract. And when he had the whole idea had been so upsetting that he had never considered it for long.

"It means he cares for you enough to be bothered that you don't have a choice," Ratchet said as he sat on a comfortable chair next to the head of the berth. "It means he's come a long way personally too, but that's a separate subject. It's _good_ if the person you care about cares about you enough to want to be sure you are happy, and not just because coding forces you to be. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense now, but it should in a few orns."

A slow nod of acceptance from the mech on the berth, hopeful optics on Ratchet.

"Right," Ratchet sighed and patted Windswept's shoulder. "If you're sure there are no questions, I'm going to put you in medical stasis for this first round of editing. It's best for both of us."

"No questions." Was the answer as Windswept settled back on the berth. He had thought about this long enough, and if it was going to happen he would just as soon get it over with. And as far as stasis went, he would rather not know what was going on as it happening, so there weren't going to be any arguments from him on that point either.

* * *

Windswept gradually became aware of booting up, the slow version much like when he had first been sparked and didn't know any better methods. Systems checked, one by one, their information fed to him as each sequence was finished.

Each one integrated and cross-checked as it started interacting with the others, smoothly flowing together as primary systems checks gave way to secondary ones. It all came back as normal, with no errors, but as his optics booted up Windswept still felt slightly off, as though there was something missing from the sequence.

"So, how are you feeling?" the semi-familiar voice of the Autobot's CMO greeted him.

Windswept shrugged carefully, still trying to get something to settle into place. "Odd. Everything reads normal, but something doesn't feel normal." He looked at Ratchet. "Is it supposed to be that way?"

"I did just change a central chunk of your programming," the medic pointed out dryly. "Given it was a chunk intended to alter your perceptions and responses to stimuli, yes, feeling a bit off is expected. Is it distressing?"

"Not yet." Windswept replied honestly, still testing it carefully. "It feels like something is missing, even though when I check it says everything is there."

"That would be the slave code," Ratchet nodded. "Your check says nothing is missing because the code is no longer supposed to be there, even if you're still used to having it. Would you like to see Drift?"

The blue mech jerked upright on the berth. "Please."

Ratchet chuckled and pinged the door to open. Drift was in almost immediately, his stride and look intense, focused on Windswept, even though he tried to look like he wasn't rushing.

Windswept scrambled to the edge of the berth, almost falling against the larger mech as his field reached out, needing the familiar grounding presence to the combat the feeling of _off_ that was still making his systems tingle uncomfortably. Strong arms found him, wrapped around him to hold him close and steady as the field he'd sought to connect with every moment for the last fourteen and some vorns meshed with his, welcoming, supportive and so very hopeful.

A gentle kiss found its way to Windswept's forehelm but Drift tried nothing more, and for the moment Windswept seemed content to center himself around the comforting presence and regroup. The death grip on the warrior loosened slowly as the blue mech's field began to relax, smoothing out into something that was close to the old normal.

"Feeling okay?" Drift murmured, one hand stroking Windswept's back absently.

"Okay? Not really." Windswept grumbled, the sound coming out a growl as the blue mech found that he was suddenly tired and irritated. Okay was the last thing-

A reflexive cringe ran through Windswept, his body language going submissive as he looked up at Drift before his processor caught up with the fact that he didn't have to. Confusion came close on the heels of the realization, the conditioned response freezing when there was no code to enforce it.

The smile, then a soft chuckle confused him even more.

Why would his master find this funny?

"Finally, a _real_ reaction," Drift gave him a crooked smile. "I knew no one could be that happy all the time."

Memory of how he had reacted in the past told him that he had given the wrong response, that the reaction he had exhibited should have angered Drift. The fact that the white mech was amused had Windswept shaken.

"Not..." It hadn't always been honest, but it had been happy, because his code had told him that the response would please. That realization stunned Windswept, the second big shock in such a short time making his entire frame tremble.

"Shu, it's okay," Drift whispered, stroking Windswept's back in comfort and support. "You'll sort it out soon enough," he drew the smaller mech closer, frame and field trying to comfort him.

The acceptance and approval from Drift went a long way in easing the confusion, those two things meaning as much to Windswept now as they always had. Finding that out was a measure of comfort itself to the small mech.

"It's going to be that way for a while." Ratchet spoke up, warning them both. "Reacting with conditioned responses and then finding that there is no code to enforce them or evaluate them. It will fade over time as new conditioning replaces the old."

"I've been approved two full decacycles leave here on base," Drift told him with a nod, still holding Windswept close. "There will be time."

"Good." If he hadn't been Ratchet would have been fixing the problem, but it was nice to have something already working for a change. Even nicer to see someone like always-on-the-move-Drift taking twice the time demanded to see to his mate's health. Now if he could only get some of the nut-jobs that lived here to do the same.

"Is there anything I can give him if the panic becomes too much for him?" Drift asked quietly, still focused on silently reassuring Windswept.

"If it reaches the point you need to sedate him, do it and call me right away." The medic instructed. "I'll make sure you have all that you need in case that happens before I release him."

Drift nodded his acceptance. "If you can give me that now, I'd like to get him settled into our quarters."

Ratchet hesitated for a moment, but as he looked at Windswept he sighed and nodded. "I want to check that everything is still integrating smoothly, and then you can take him for the evening."

Drift nodded and gently urged Windswept to lay on the berth again so Ratchet could do his job. This time, however, he didn't go far.

Windswept shivered as Drift moved away, the field contact holding him through the loss of the physical contact that was a great deal of what was holding him together at the moment.

He offered no resistance when Ratchet tapped on a medical port, opening it quickly and resisting the urge to flinch as the medic moved lightly over his systems. With a satisfied nod Ratchet stepped back and addressed Drift. "I want him back here early next orn. And you will call me at the first sign that anything is wrong."

The last was an order, delivered with stern optics.

"Understood," Drift inclined his head and stepped up to collect Windswept, nudging his helm up for a chaste but affectionate kiss. "We'll be cooperative."

"Good." Ratchet's attention lingered on Windswept for a moment. "Do tell him if you don't feel right. I'd rather fix something while it is a small problem, before it becomes a full blown melt down, all right?"

Windswept nodded as he slipped from the berth, remaining as close to Drift as he could that would allow them to both still move freely. "I will."

"Good," Ratchet turned to pick up a small box. "A packet mixed into a quarter cube of energon if he can drink it, or one syringe in a main line if he can't. The dose is calibrated for him. It should take affect within breem, and may within a klik, depending on how he's wound up. Do not give him a second dose," he said firmly. "Put him in forced stasis first, but only if you can't control him long enough for a medic to arrive."

Drift's look said just how little he thought of the possibility of Windswept being able to best him, even in a panic. "Anything else?"

"Don't leave him alone, and I would keep interaction with outsiders to a minimum until we are done working and sure that the new coding is mostly settled in. Other than that keep things as normal as possible. It'll help." He added for Windswept's benefit.

"I will," Drift promised with a nod, then nuzzled the blue mech. "Seems we'll have plenty of time in the berth then," he purred.

The shiver that ran down Windswept's frame at the comment was clearly one of anticipation, and the signal for Ratchet to throw his hands up. "Out with you then. They gave you personal quarters for a reason. Mainly so that you would not be interfacing each other into stasis in _my_ med bay."

Drift chuckled as he turned to leave, Windswept tucked against his side and both of them eager to reach their home for the next couple decacycles.

There was a decent amount of cross traffic on the short trip from the med bay to the guest quarters actually built for those who had friends and family receiving medical attention, but no one attempted to hinder their journey.

A good fact, considering that Windswept was shaking again by the time they reached their destination.

Drift led him to the berth room, skipping the general tour of the four-room suite in favor of settling his lover the best way he knew how. A heated kiss claimed Windswept's mouth as he was gently pushed to lie down on the large, soft berth.

"Do you want me?" Drift asked for the very first time since they met.

Bright optics looked squarely into his. Gentle black hands reached up to trace his face, taking a moment to actually study it before drawing him down into another heated kiss.

"Yes."

Drift gave a shudder and moan, relief flooding his field for a moment before being overtaken by arousal. "Want you," he rumbled as he lowed himself fully on top of Windswept. "Want to make you moan, scream."

"Please." The answering desire in Windswept's field was hard to miss as it meshed with Drift's. "Take me. Make me forget, please."

"You'll always be mine," Drift promised with a bruising kiss, channeling all his desire to dominate and control into the contact. "As long as you want me, you will be _mine_ ," he growled, rubbing his spike cover over Windswept's front valve cover.

A soft whimper in response, cover sliding away as Windswept answered the kiss, mouth hungry on Drift's. He wanted the contact, all of it. Wanted to be taken and claimed and reminded that even with this change he was _wanted_ and _desired_.

The first thrust was a blissful reminder that Drift wasn't having him changed to get rid of him. Stretching his valve wide, Drift's spike filled him, deeply and fully and as perfectly as ever.

"Mine," Drift growled, driving his hips forward again and again, this time leaving the pleasure sensors at full receptivity to enjoy their first overload together as free mechs in all its possible intensity.

"Yours." Windswept cried, rising to meet each thrust and reveling in being taken, the pleasure washing through his field and into the other mech.

This was perfection as he gave himself willing and joyfully.

The pleasure crested too quickly for both of them, Drift's quickly building charge driving Windswept's until the white mech slammed his hips forward with a roar as overload caught him by surprise.

The intense energy rushed through Windswept as transfluid rushed into him, driving him to overload with a cry of his own, Drift's designation his answer to the roar.

They were both trembling as they came down, their vents working overtime after the fast buildup and faster than normal release. With a nonsensical murmur Drift kissed Windswept again, gentle and slow and possessive.

"Always mine," Drift asserted. "Just free to be mine by choice."

"Yours." Windswept murmured in reply, pulling Drift against him in a possessive motion of his own and planting light kisses on the white mechs neck and face.

For a moment Windswept was distracted with the realization that even this felt different. The weight of Drift's frame pinning his to the berth. The spike still warm in his valve. The field meshed with his own was all familiar and comforting.

But now there was a different rightness to it all. Not right because Drift was pleased, even though Windswept still felt a surge of pride at that fact, but right because Drift was pleased and Windswept had wanted it.

For _himself_.

"Something click?" Drift nuzzled him, dialing down the sensitivity of his spike so he could be sure to wear his lover out completely.

A soft vent as Windswept considered, "I think it is starting to...click." He shifted uneasily as other things started to fall into place. " _I_ wanted it. _I_ want more."

An edge of distress crept into his field and he looked at Drift. "I shouldn't want. Not for me."

"Why not?" he asked in all seriousness. "All mecha want for themselves." He leaned down to kiss him as he began to rock his hips. " _Desire_ is part of functioning."

Windswept whimpered. "Never have before. Not like that." The idea of wanting something for himself simply because he wanted it, not because it would please or benefit Drift, was practically a foreign concept to Windswept.

To want something of Drift because Windswept wanted it for himself was virtually terrifying.

And at the moment he wanted to escape this fear pulling at him. Wanted to be free of the conflicting thoughts in his processor. Wanted to lose himself in the pleasure that was already radiating from his valve until he couldn't remain online.

"Help me, master." He begged softly.

"Always," Drift promised softly, shifting the angle of his thrusts to rub the most number of sensors. "You've always wanted for yourself. Your programming prevented you from experiencing it."

With that Drift focused on driving his lover to another overload, intent on giving Windswept some peace in recharge before the real work began.

Windswept's field eased at his master's words and promise, pleasure slowly replacing anything else his processor might have wanted to focus on as Drift drove him to oblivion and the peaceful recharge that always followed.

* * *

Windswept moaned as his systems booted up to the pleasure of his spike being stimulated.

For a moment he simply lay still, the warmth of another frame against his back and the almost silent whispers of the systems that powered it catching up in his processor with the rare sensation of the hand on his spike.

"Master." He murmured, arching back into the other mech and treasuring being indulged as he was at the moment.

"Drift," he corrected gently, emphasizing the small change in the designation that said he was a claimed mech, that his _mate_ was Windswept.

A momentary hesitation, then hope and joy seeping into Windswept's field no matter how hard he attempted to keep them in check as he repeated the designation, tasting and testing the change. "Drift."

The white mech hummed his approval and kissed Windswept's neck as he continued to stroke his spike. "I can feel how much you like the idea."

Windswept moaned softly, the distraction helping him deal with yet another change as his processor adjusted to his new status. Mate...mate implied a degree of equality, something that had never been available, not even a thought, to Windswept with his former programming.

Slaves and servants were never equal with their masters. But it was Drift who had made the change, Drift who had given him that, and thanks flared into the other emotions spilling from him.

He felt Drift smile against his neck cables. "Good."

He moaned at the praise, at the touch, at the feel of his lover? mate?'s designation again. "Drift."

It _felt_ good to say it, to hear his own status in the designation. A slightly stronger stroke along his spike made him shudder and moan again, his hips rocking into the steady motion of Drift's hand.

For the first time there was security in something new, in the change, and with the safety of it Windswept allowed his control to slip. Hips rocked harder into the hand on his spike as his field pushed against Drift's, thick with desire for the release being offered.

"Yes," Drift's own arousal pushed back, crashing into Windswept's systems as the smaller mech arched and cried out with the overload.

Energy swept across the surface of the blue frame as it momentarily locked up before Windswept came down hard. It was all he could do for a moment to lay there as his systems re-calibrated and cooled. Even if he could have, he offered no resistance as Drift shifted, allowing Windswept to roll to his back and the white mech to brace over him. He wasn't even aware of spreading his legs or baring his valve until it was filled, speared and stretched as their hips met.

"My lovely Windswept," Drift moaned into a possessive growl of Windswept's altered designation, changing his status from servant to mate.

Then the moment was swept away as Drift's arousal demanded to be sated, hard, fast and intense.

The pleasure rolling off the mech beneath him was sincere, and stronger than it had ever been before. Windswept offered himself as willingly as he always had, but now there was an undercurrent of personal desire for Drift and a new strength in the devotion to the white warrior.

Drift moaned, burying his faceplates against Windswept's neck as he caught the blue mech's hands with his own and interlaced their fingers. His chassis on autopilot seeking release, he simply enjoyed this, enjoyed the intensity and the reassurance of the new edge to Windswept's pleasure.

With a shudder and grunt he overloaded, grinding his hips against Windswept's as he filled the younger mech's valve with hot, thick transfluid.

"Drift." Wonder colored Windswept's soft murmur as he rode out the pleasure of his own overload. He turned his helm and kissed Drift softly, a move that was returned, if sluggishly.

"This ... this is why I wanted you free," Drift managed to get out as he lay, spent and sated, on top of Windswept. "Wanted you to want me yourself."

Warmth and affection slipped through Windswept's field as he nuzzled at Drift. The fear of the new coding and what it was doing to him was starting to fade as he relaxed under the weight of his mate.

Mate.

Windswept took a moment to savor that feeling.

If being accepted, _desired_ by his master was the most wonderful feeling of his former coding, it paled in comparison to this. Though still shaky on the concept and all it would entail, he was beginning to enjoy what being free meant. He wasn't losing his master. He had become his mate.

His attention was diverted as Drift began to move, slowly pulling out of him to collapse on his side next to Windswept.

"Not so scary now?" Drift murmured, one hand absently stroking Windswept's chest plate seam.

"Still frightening." Windswept told him, shifting so that his frame was against Drift's. "But not as bad as it was."

Because Windswept was slowly starting to realize that he wasn't going to have to face this on his own.

"Good," Drift murmured, for once grateful for all the changes Wind's ... whatever ... was still making in him. He _liked_ this feeling, of having someone care for _him_ much the way Wing had. A small shudder passed through him at the thought of what he would have been like as a master without the changes.

The shudder that rippled against his frame didn't go unnoticed, and all of Windswept's attention was instantly focused on Drift. "What's wrong?"

"Thinking," Drift grunted, an answer that was usually the end of it. Thinking and Drift weren't a happy match. "Wing...I couldn't have done this without what he did."

Windswept hummed softly, snuggling against the larger mech and not pushing any more. Instead he offered his presence, his thanks for and to the mech departed, and the care he felt for Drift.

It was going to be a long couple of decaorns, but it would be worth it. Maybe now he could sooth Drift's growing distress over Wing and whatever lingering effects it was having on him.


	7. When Blade Meets Blade

It felt _good_ to finally get out of the Autobot base. Officially one or not, Drift never spent long around them, or any group, and he was relieved to be out and about in Iacon. Ratchet had demanded they remain in city limits, but had _finally_ agreed to let Windswept out of his immediate supervision. Though it was quite possibly out of a sense of self-preservation as Drift grew increasingly volatile around the more high-strung and trigger happy of the local warriors, giving better than he got and always willing to answer a challenge.

Though he didn't wander far from Drift it was evident that Windswept was happy to be off the base proper as well. Even if wandering hadn't been something that he had been inclined to when he was first sparked, it was hard to spend your entire functioning bound to a drifter and not acquire a dislike for being forced to stay in one place.

It was a new experience for the blue mech as well, being out in public with the changes to his coding.

He could feel the mixed emotions in Drift when he was close, the desire to keep Windswept very tightly by his side to protect him, and the desire to let the smaller mech explore the city and people with his new perspective. Verbally, he encouraged Windswept to check out just out anything that caught his attention, from objects to people.

Windswept's compromise was to investigate whatever caught his interest, but to never be out of Drift's optic range, always returning to the mechs side before too much time had passed. It was still habit for him to place Drift's desires, the ones he could see and sense after so long even if they were not voiced, above his own.

Curiosity satisfied once more, a musician performing on the street, he made his way back to Drift. His mast...mate was focused on something coming towards them, a flash and glitter of a bouncing giant golden mech, the kind that was all energy and excitement that moved around a giant purple and white triple-changer with red optics and the hilts of two long swords peaking over his wings.

"Someone you know?" Windswept asked, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to be ignored.

"I believe I know of him," Drift said quietly. "The triple changer is Titanium. An Autobot wanderer, like us."

The tension that had built in Windswept eased some and he moved closer to Drift. "Not a threat then." 

"Likely not," Drift agreed, watching the giant walk towards them, the red optics on Drift with a flicker of recognition.

"Still interested in you." Windswept commented, stating the obvious as his attention spread more to what was going on around them.

The triple changer's ruby optics were bright with interest as he approached, his golden-armored mate trotting next to him. Stopping a short distance away, Titanium looked Drift over, noting the swords on his hips and the Great Sword on his back. "Not often I meet another swordsmecha," he commented conversationally.

"We are rare," Drift inclined his helm in a polite greeting. "Titanium, I believe?"

The bigger mech nodded. "That is I, yes. And you are Drift?" Purple-streaked wings shifted slightly on his back.

"Drift," he corrected for the subtle changes that indicated Windswept's status and existence in Drift's life. "My mate, Windswept," he inclined his helm to the dark blue mech at his side.

Titanium inclined his head in acknowledgement of the corrections. Turning toward the blue mech, he offered a slight bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Windswept." Straightening, he indicated the bright gold mech watching the pair with curiosity. "And this is my mate, GoldenRod."

"Pleased to meet you both." GoldenRod nodded to them.

A small shiver passed through Windswept at the public acknowledgment of the change again, but the for the moment he only nodded his head in polite greeting.

Without much thought he broke down the designation. Titanium was fairly easy. It told of a powerful and successful former arena fighter who had left the arenas behind. It said that this mech had a strong personal code of honor; he would fight when challenged but would not instigate, and he would flatly refuse to cut down the weak and helpless, or the retreating. There were glyphs for his great skill as a swordsmech, a master swordsmech with many vorns of experience. GoldenRod's designation had been added in the position of "bonded mate". The name also told of Titanium's position as a guardian, a protector of younglings and sparklings no matter their race or faction. Added to that was a note that when defending a youngling, he was utterly implacable and unstoppable.

GoldenRod's designation told of a fun-loving mech with a streak of prankster in him. There were notes that confirmed him as another guardian of younglings, every bit as fierce as his bonded. Not a swordsmech but very good at hand-to-hand unarmed or small blades and with a gun. His origin was on a distant colony; an added note said that he was the last survivor of said colony.

"So what are you up to in Iacon?" Drift asked, willing to chat with a fellow wandering swordsmecha.

"Every once in a while we're required to check in with the head honchos, just so they can be sure we're actually still among the functioning," Titanium replied with a chuckle. "And Ratchet gets really cranky if I don't turn up for a checkup at least once every other vorn or so. Figured we'd restock our ship while we were passing through."

"And he hopes there'll be a mech who at least knows which end of a sword to hold onto around to spar with," GoldenRod added. "I'm not a swordsmech myself, so I can't help there. He tried to teach me to use a sword, but after the first few tries he forbade me from using anything bigger than an energy knife. I was that bad."

Drift couldn't help but snicker, his expression half grimace and half amused. "Windswept is better, but no master at it. Perhaps we can arrange a few sparring sessions. Show the locals that blasters aren't the only deadly thing around."

Windswept grumbled softly at Drift's evaluation of his skills, even his field revealed how true he knew they were. For Drift's sake he hoped both mechs would be able to find the time to meet. It had been a while since his mate had faced a real challenge he could enjoy.

It might also make it safer for everyone else residing in the Autobot base during their stay.

Red optics glowed brightly, matching the big triple changer's smile. "That sounds great. I've heard much about you, and it would be an honor to spar with you."

"Perhaps this evening, joor thirty?" Drift suggested.

The big triple changer pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Ratchet should be done with me by then, so that should be fine. Iacon's main training facility? We'll give the locals an opticful."

"Yes we will," Drift grinned, looking forward to the match entirely too much. "I will see you then."

Titanium nodded, matching the white mech's grin. "See you then."

Drift inclined his helm and stepped to move on, intent on enjoying his orn of relative freedom and learn more about what interested Windswept.

* * *

GoldenRod leaned on the wall of the training arena, watching his mate warming up. The larger mech's twin blades wove intricate, sharp-edged patterns in the air around the triple changer's torso and shoulders. Red optics were half-lidded in concentration.

Hearing the door open, the golden mech looked over to see if Drift and Windswept had arrived yet.

The pair stopped just inside the door, observing for a moment before Drift nudged Windswept gently in the direction of the waiting golden mech.

Another moment of consideration and Drift stepped on the training floor to begin his own warm up. Twin short swords, the length of the daggers that GoldenRod used, flashed in a much more aggressive pattern than Titanium's; the difference between arena and battlefield origins. Both deadly, but one was inherently just a bit more showy. On his back, his Great Sword's gem glowed softly and the movements smoothed out a bit as Drift settled into the katas.

GoldenRod nodded a greeting to Windswept, watching as the white mech warmed up. "He's good," he commented to Windswept after a moment of observation. "This is going to be interesting."

Titanium held one stance for a moment, then lowered his weapons, turning to face Drift and waiting patiently. He carried two long, curved swords, slimmer than Drift's weapons but clearly every bit as sharp.

"And hopefully good for the both of them." Windswept nodded in return as most of his attention turned to watching Drift. It was beauty in motion to the blue mech, and he never tired of watching his master now mate practice, alone or on the rare occasion with another. "I am no challenge for him."

"When it comes to blades, I'm about as good as a particularly clumsy youngling," the golden mech snorted. "I'll never be a challenge for Titan. Or for Drift. When it comes to shooting I'm slightly better, since he prefers fighting with swords over guns, but he beats me hands-down every time I dare pick up a blade."

A crowd had begun to form as other mechs noticed the two swordsmechs. Murmurs swept through the assembly as optics took in the pair, the triple changer towering over the white mech. From the edges of the crowd someone called out a bet, which another mech promptly took.

Windswept just shook his helm and settled against the wall beside the taller mech. There were many bets against Drift, but Windswept knew his mate.

Drift was fast. And he was good. The crowd was in for a good show, and a free one at that.

"Drift was content when I able to mostly hit what I was aiming at. I usually carry a holdout blaster." Windswept explained as Drift, as relaxed as Windswept had ever seen him, finished the final sequence, stilled and turned to bow slightly to Titanium before sinking into a ready stance.

Hearing all the bets, Titanium gave the audience a glare, then ignored them. Turning to Drift, he returned the bow, flicking his blades in a gesture of respect, one swordsmech to another. The big mech held his own ready stance for a long moment, then struck out, moving faster than one would expect for such a big mech.

"Titan gave up teaching me swordfighting, though we've had more success with close-range knife-fighting," GoldenRod replied. "I can throw a knife, just don't expect me to actually hit something vital. My main weapon is a plasma gun, and I carry a rifle, too. Titan and I fight as a team ... He gets in close and I pick off whoever tries to get around him or sneak up on him."

"Wise." Windswept complimented, optics on the testing dance taking place before them as both mech settled into getting a feel for their opponent. "Drift does not normally allow me to follow him into battle. I usually wait for him to return."

Or went in search of him when he did not.

"You're not a war-build," GoldenRod pointed out. "And you'd need training. I'd been fighting for vorns after the destruction of my home before I met Titan." He snorted softly as the triple changer avoided a blow by jumping over it, twisting to meet the white mech's blade with his own, sparks flying from the contact. "Looks like both of them are going to learn new tricks from this ... And Drift's style looks vaguely familiar."

A soft thoughtful hum as Windswept considered the truth of the other mech words. He had not been created to fight, and the truth was he had little desire to do so. As Drift moved into another strike, a signature move of his, he addressed the second part.

"I know he received some formal training, though he doesn't speak of where he learned it much."

"Titan's seen something like it, though it was before my time and the mech in question wasn't much into swords at that point. Though that's probably changed since." The golden mech shrugged, making a face as Titanium twisted slightly to take a blow he couldn't avoid against the tires mounted on his thighs, one popping loudly but stopping the blow. The bigger mech's response strike left a gleaming scrape along Drift's right spaulder.

Neither mech gave any indication of discomfort at the blows.

Windswept hissed and flinched as a block left Drift off balance for a moment, and he firmly reminded himself that this was a simple sparring match. Neither mech intended to cause actual harm to the other, and Drift regained his balance enough to strike out in return.

"Titan's enjoying this immensely," GoldenRod said after a moment. "It's very rare he gets a chance to spar with a mech whose skill matches his own, and he relishes the opportunity." Bright optics watched a rapid-fire exchange of strikes and blocks before Titanium managed a swipe at Drift's thigh, just missing the blow.

The crowd had gone silent, the front rows actually backing up to give the two swordsmechs more room. Almost all of the spectators were staring with wide optics.

There was no doubt that both mech's reputations would be increased by this show, no matter who won in the end. Most of those watching were too stunned to do anything but gape at the spectacle; they'd all seen more than enough combat and close-quarters sparring to recognize real skill when they saw it, even if it wasn't with weapons they knew.

"It's a rare skill, and even more rare on their level. They both suffer from a lack of partners." Windswept's helm jerked in the direction of the watchers. "And something that the common public isn't used to."

The hiss of blade against blade drew his optics back to the match just in time to watch Drift block a blow and twist his frame out of the way of the follow-up strike. "For all of his reputation, the fact that many do not believe it to be as dangerous as it is causes many of Drift's opponents to underestimate him."

GoldenRod cupped his hands around his mouth. "Drift! Word to the wise: with Titan, it's not just the sharp end of the sword that's dangerous!"

Lowering his hands, he turned back to Windswept. "Most mechs think of swords as archaic and useless... They're better for close-range and fighting in narrow spaces than most other weapons. And Titan has one tiny advantage when fighting 'Cons... Red eyes and wings. Most enemies actually mistake him for a 'Con, only to realize their mistake when they get too close."

"I can see where that would work to his advantage as an Autobot." Windswept tilted his helm to look up at the golden mech. "Is there a reason he chooses to not have them changed, other than the advantage it does give him?"

GoldenRod watched Titanium block a strike, reversing his grip on the hilt and sliding the blade down Drift's to land a hilt-strike on one white arm, just hard enough to leave a slight dent. In a real fight the triple changer would've been aiming to crush internal structures. "His optics have been red since the orn he walked out of the facility where he was built. They're his, and his opinion is that everyone else just has to get used to them. He's not changing them just for everyone else's benefit."

Windswept nodded, respectful of the reasoning and the giant mech's right to choose to retain his identity. His optics homed in on the dent in Drift's arm, gauging the amount of damage the strike might have done and already adding it to the list of things to see too as soon as the match was over.

"A great deal of fun." Windswept could read it in the way Drift moved, serious and intent on what he was doing, focused, but without the added edge of tension when he was fighting for survival. "Hopefully he will be in a better mood for the rest of our stay."

"We'll be around for a while, so they might have opportunities to spar again before we leave, or before you and he leave." GoldenRod shrugged. "We'll have to see what happens. But this should leave both of them easier to deal with for a while."

"He becomes difficult to deal with when he is forced to remain in a single place?" The questions came with the awed comments from the crowd as a furious exchanged ended with both warriors pulling back for a moment to regroup.

"Titan's a wanderer to the core," GoldenRod replied. "Must be the flyer in him. He gets very irritable when he has to stay in one place, and at his size he can be very slagging intimidating. Drift's just as bad, I'm assuming."

Titanium settled into a new stance, grinning hugely, his red optics shining. All his attention was on Drift, waiting for the next stroke.

Windswept considered as he watched Drift launch a new attack, high and deliberately testing the larger mech's guard with a wicked smile. "I am not sure that it is his nature so much as he is driven to it by his desire to not be tied to one place."

Titanium dropped under the blow, going down and sideways and landing one hilt against Drift's ankle. A moment later he was on his pedes again, launching his own attack. He left a couple bold scratches on Drift's armor before blade met blade with the ring of metal on metal.

"Titan and I could settle on Cybertron if we chose to. He just doesn't want to." The gold mech lifted one shoulder, twitching his spoiler. "And where he goes, I go."

"I understand." Windswept murmured as the mechs broke to circle each other again.

The triple changer's wings were twitching and arching high, indicating his enjoyment of the sparring. He was watching every move the white mech made, watching for the hints of a strike. The crowd watching them had gotten bigger, and some mech had actually sent in a camera overhead to catch the action for those who didn't have a good view.

"My bet's on this continuing until one or both of them is ready to fall over," GoldenRod predicted. "Or it ends in a tie."

"Drift is very stubborn." Windswept admitted as his mate struck again and landed a glancing hit before pushing his advantage.

"So's Titan," GoldenRod agreed, shifting his weight slightly. "Won't give up until he starts getting low energy warnings. I've lost count of the times I've had to drag his aft off the battlefield to get him to recharge."

The triple changer was actually driven back a couple of steps before he ducked another high strike, Drift's sword catching the end of his tightly braided mane and removing several inches. Titanium's grin only widened, launching into a lightning-fast series of strikes.

The crowd around them continued to grow; word was clearly spreading fast. The front rows were all minibots, pushing their way to the front for the best view. Several cameras were now overhead, projecting images onto large screens for the benefit of those who couldn't see past the crowds in front of them.

"I'm sure that isn't easy." Windswept commented as he watched the warriors spar, both obviously enjoying the exchange but neither of them giving an inch either.

The blue mech stood up straighter as he noticed a shift in the crowd, and murmured in surprise. "A crowd I was expecting, but apparently word spread. There's Ratchet."

"I doubt any of them have ever really seen two swordsmasters sparring with each other like this," the gold mech replied, looking at the crowd. His greater height let him get a better look at the growing swarm of spectators. "It's no surprise that everyone just _has_ to see. I'd expect that they're going to be talking about this for a vorn or more."

The next exchange of strikes and blocks was so fast the two warriors' blades were mere blurs of silver, sparks flying from the contact. Awed murmurs rippled through the crowd at the speed and the precision.

The exchange drew Windswept's optics back to the match, and he couldn't help but flinch every time that one of them managed to land a hit. He had to admit that he had never seen Drift challenged on this level before, and it was awe-inspiring.

"Drift normally attracts attention anywhere he stops long enough to train, but I think this may well be the largest crowd he has ever drawn."

"Two master swordsmechs engaged in one Pit of a sparring match. It's not often this bunch sees two mechs of equal skill showing exactly why they're rated as masters of their chosen weapon." GoldenRod flicked his spoiler to indicate the crowd. "And most of them consider swords as archaic and next to useless, so seeing differently is going to be one Pit of a shock." A flicker of movement caught his optic. "Looks like word's reached the head muckety-mucks... Here comes Prowl."

Windswept's optics traveled over the crowd. He had heard rumors of the Autobot Second in Command. "Do you think he's come to put a stop to it? It looks like most of the base has managed to cram their way in here."

"Considering that he's well aware of how irritable Titan can get when he has to stay in one place, and how volatile I've heard Drift can get, I doubt it. My guess is that he wants to see for himself just how good they are. Rumor is that Prowl's no slouch with blades himself, though I've never been able to get any kind of confirmation." GoldenRod had to shrug, indicating he didn't know. "We'll just have to see."

Titanium was completely oblivious to the crowd. He was still grinning from audial to audial as he flicked one blade toward Drift's midsection, the other neatly catching Drift's sword and intercepting its path toward the triple changer's hip.

Tension filled every inch of Windswept's frame until Drift twisted safely out of the way. Relaxing, he took a moment to check his chronometer and shifted in surprise. The match had been carrying far longer than he had thought, caught up with the rest of the crowd watching the display of skill.

A breem or two later, GoldenRod nudged Windswept's shoulder gently, tilting his head toward where Prowl and Ratchet were standing. "Looks like they've lured in the whole command crew, or most of them, anyway."

Titanium scored a glancing blow on Drift's side, dancing out of the way of the response. Another of his tires had gotten hit and deflated, bits of rubber flaking off every now and then.

Spairing a moment from the match, Windswept looked over in the direction that GoldenRod had indicated and found himself staring. Not only was the Chief Medic and the Second present, but if he was not mistaken that was the Prime himself standing there with them now.

"Prime, Ratchet, Prowl... The other black-and-white is Jazz, the third-in-command, and the two big ones are the infamous Twins," GoldenRod told the smaller mech, indicating each. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe."

There was another rapid-fire exchange from the two warriors. Titanium's wings, arched high, had begun to drop back down; the big triple changer was beginning to tire.

Drift's grin turned feral as he recognized his opponent's greatest weakness.

Windswept's attention was taken up as Jazz bounded over, at least as well as he could with the crowd. Prowl quietly on his heals.

"They're _amazing_ ," the more social black and white grinned at the pair.

Windswept found himself smiling slightly in return. "They are." He agreed as he moved over to make room for the officers.

"Jazz, Prowl," GoldenRod greeting, shifting over a bit.

Titanium's grin turned wicked in return to Drift's. Flaring his wings briefly, he struck out nearly too fast to follow, landing two direct hits and one glancing blow within a few seconds. Then his wings dropped again, and Drift was able to force him back another step as he scored hits himself.

"How long will this settle them?" Prowl asked evenly, the only hint at his true reaction in the stance of his three-panel sensor wings. They were spread into their three fingers and flared wide.

Windswept considered Drift, the light in the white mechs optics, the shift and flow of his motion. "Drift will never turn down a chance to spar with someone who actually offers him a challenge, but today will probably see him through the rest of our scheduled break, without _requiring_ another outlet."

"Pretty much the same for Titan," GoldenRod added. "Like Drift, he won't refuse an offer to spar, but this will keep him from trying to bite anyone's head off for a while. Which is definitely a good thing, since a mech his size in a bad mood usually means someone's going to get mauled."

Titanium closed in on Drift, resulting in a rapid exchange lasting a good breem and a half. That pretty much ended it. Not long afterward, the big triple changer staggered backward and collapsed to one knee, driving the tip of one blade into the floor to catch himself. With his other hand, he signaled that he yielded the fight to Drift, unable to continue. Settling back, panting heavily, but still grinning hugely, he looked up at Drift, optics glowing brightly.

"Been a long time since I had this much fun," the big mech admitted.

"It's been ages," Drift agreed, his own features, so unaccustomed to expressing non-physical pleasure, were absolutely beaming. He unsubspaced a cube of energon and offered it to his opponent.

"Thank you." Titanium accepted the cube, draining it quickly before getting back to his pedes, returning his swords to their sheaths. Tilting his head, he regarded Drift for a moment. "Your style looked vaguely familiar... Like something I saw long ago."

"I don't know where it came from originally," Drift admitted as they finally took in their audience, including almost all of high command, and _Prime_ , as they tried to rejoin their mates outside the ring. "Wing taught me the basics. The rest I worked out on my own."

The triple changer blinked as he processed the unfamiliar name. Then his optics brightened. "So you _have_ encountered Dai Atlas, hmm? Was wondering if he was still among the functioning. Been a very long time since I saw him last." Titanium glanced around, whistling as he took in the crowd that had gathered to watch them.

The crowd let them through reluctantly, Windswept joining Drift as soon as the white mech was close enough, optics sweeping over his mate and taking in the damage. It wasn't as bad as he first feared it would be based on the intensity of the sparring session he had just been witness to.

"He was last I saw him, though it's been a long time," Drift inclined his helm, curious optics focusing on the Autobot SIC and TIC.

"Impressive, both of you," Jazz grinned at them. "This'll be the talk of the vorn."

"Quite impressive," Prowl inclined his helm to them. "Perhaps you would each be willing to indulge me in a sparring match, in private?"

Windswept felt more than saw the ripple of surprise that passed through those in the crowd closest to them, most of his attention on the deep dent in Drift's arm where Titanium's sword hilt had connected.

It wasn't deep enough to cause damage yet, but the stress to the armor would create a weak point that would need to be seen to. Noting it, he moved on to the next visible damage and listened to the conversation taking place.

"Wonder if he's still holding a grudge... I got him in the skidplate one time with an accidental ricochet. He wasn't happy about it." Titanium had to chuckle at the memory. "If you ever come across him again, tell him I said hi." 

The big triple changer tilted his head at the two officers, optics brightening. "Given a chance to get my energy back, I'd be honored to, Prowl."

"I will," Drift responded to Titanium before focusing on Prowl. "Sure, if you want to get your aft handed to you."

"We will see if that happens." A tiny smile appeared on Prowl's lip plates and a gleam in his golden optics. "Mereo?"

Jazz perked up sharply, his visor flashing brightly.

"Agreed," Drift grinned at him. "When?"

"In six orns, joor fourteen in sparring room three," Prowl offered.

"I'll be there," Drift promised.

The soft buzz of conversation carried on around them, though Windswept could feel the crowd starting to thin out now that the match was clearly over. He wasn't particularly happy with the arrangement, but... "At least that will give some time to patch you up."

And for Windswept to get a couple of questions asked in private.

Crimson optics brightened, and Titanium's smile was wolfish. "Does that count for me, too?"

GoldenRod elbowed him, looking Titanium up and down pointedly, then looking at Prowl equally pointedly, emphasizing the height and size difference. The triple changer snorted, shrugging easily. 

"Still, I'm always up for a sparring match with a skilled opponent... When I'm not almost falling over from energy drain," Titanium added.

"All right you two," Ratchet's growl broke up the remaining crowd. "Med bay. Now. Before you bleed out."

"Coming," Titanium sighed, flicking his wings before walking out of the arena, heading for the medbay.

Windswept nudged gently at Drift, urging him to obey the medic. There was less resistance than usual, and the remainder of the crowd dissipated as the two swordsmecha followed the CMO obediently, their mates at their sides.

* * *

Windswept settled in next to Drift, close enough to touch without leaning on anything that would cause the warrior discomfort. The critical things had been seen to, and now they were simply waiting for someone to see to the minor damages. The simply cosmetic Windswept would see to later in their quarters.

Content that they had a few breems before anyone would be along to see to Drift, the blue mech pinged a comm request. ::Drift?::

::Mmm?:: the warrior glanced at him, his systems still lightly buzzed from sparring and hot with arousal.

A shiver ran through Windswept at the edge to Drift's field, but he reined the reaction in quickly. ::Prowl placed a condition on your match, didn't he?::

::A prize for the winner,:: Drift's grin turned eager and just a little dangerous. ::He'll warm my berth for a night.::

"Mmmm." Windswept hummed softly, the tension in his frame melting away as he leaned closer to Drift. He could feel Drift's anticipation. ::Jazz seemed excited at the idea as well.::

::I'm sure he's expecting Prowl to win, which means he gets to watch Prowl dominate someone,:: Drift chuckled lightly. ::I doubt it happens often in their berth.::

::What are you going to do if he does win?::

Drift gave him a _look_ for doubting him on any level but answered anyway. ::He can't be as bad as most. He's not allowed to do much damage.::

::Don't doubt you.:: Windswept assured him, kissing him in silent apology. He worried anyway anytime that Drift fought, even thought knowing that nothing _bad_ was going to happen this time was reassuring.

A low sound of accepting the apology came from Drift's vocalizer as he pressed into the kiss, his hands reaching to draw Windswept against him. Arousal won out over being polite at the first touch, the desire to claim his mate flaring hot and bright in his field.

It didn't help matter that Windswept offered no resistance, field melting into Drift's with complete willingness. Freed mech or not, he belonged to Drift, and secretly enjoyed it when the warrior chose to remind everyone else of that fact.

"Not In My Med Bay!" Ratchet roared from across the large space. "If you're feeling that good, scat! Back to your quarters!"

Drift chuckled low in his chest and stood without hesitation, pulling Windswept to his pedes and along with him.

Amusement mixed with his through the meshed field, the reaction exactly what Windswept had been expecting as soon as someone noticed what they were up to and upsetting in the least.


	8. Sparring with Prowl

When Prowl had indicated a private sparring match, he had not been kidding. Drift and Windswept walked into the relatively small space, a single sparring circle with room for no more than half a dozen watchers. Prowl was in the center, performing warming up katas with a pair of swords very similar to Drift's short swords, but far more elaborately decorated.

Memories flickered through Drift's processor and a trickle of fear entered his field for a moment before he controlled it.

The moment was not lost on Windswept no matter how short, and the blue mech stepped close, his frame in contact with Drift's and his field reaching out in silent question.

Drift reached out to stroke his backstrut, taking the moment to study Prowl as he gathered himself and explained. ::Those are a Master's swords. Dai Atlas had swords like that. Wing's were much simpler. Mine are blank because that's all I earned.::

Belief and absolute trust filled Windswept's field. ::Then there is much you can learn.:: He finally replied, leaning closer so that Drift could use him as an excuse to take his time.

::Yes,:: Drift murmured, finally shoving everything but a focus on the fight, the same determination without care for consequences that had gotten him as far as he had under Wing's training. With that he stepped away from Windswept and into the circle to begin his own warm up katas.

"Want to run a side bet?" Jazz asked cheerfully as he came up to Windswept, both their optics on the combatants.

"Am I allowed to know the terms before I agree?" The blue mech asked reasonably as he watched Drift begin his warm-up, looking for any lingering effects of the last match and recent repairs that had come with it.

"Of course," Jazz laughed lightly, everything about him speaking of good humor. "What are you interested in betting, and on what?"

"I am afraid I have nothing to offer at the moment. Perhaps you have a suggestion?" Windswept offered, optics finally moving the mechs warming up to Jazz for a moment.

"Then something basic. Loser's mate pays a cube of high grade to the winner's?" Jazz suggested.

The blue mech laughed softly. He had that stashed away, if it came down to it. "That I can do."

"Then deal," Jazz grinned and offered his hand to seal the deal. "Do you know what Drift has planned if he wins?"

Windswept shook his hand. "I believe he intends to invite Prowl to spend an evening with us."

Jazz laughed softly. "That was a given. Winner gets control of the other in the berth for the night. That's what mereo means in a challenge."

Windswept hummed softly, optics drifting back to the mechs on the sparring floor. "Then Prowl will be invited over for an evening and overloaded until he falls into recharge. Drift enjoys making sure his partners are sated before he is done."

"I _so_ want footage of that," Jazz's engine purred. "Prowl's a hard one to knock out."

"A challenge that Drift will enjoy all the more." Windswept smiled, thoughtful, as the swordsmecha settled across from each other, both in a defensive posture to start with.

"As will Prowl when he wins," Jazz shivered in excitement as the sparring match got under way with Prowl making the first attack.

The first ring of blade on blade captured Windswept's attention, and with the first few moves he could already see the difference in this match and the one orns before. Titanium and Drift were both fundamentally self-taught on the battlefield. Each had training, but most of what they did was simply because it worked.

Prowl was a completely different creature in sparring. There was a formality to the moves, a smooth transition that was nothing like Drift's.

Prowl was _trained_ to the master level.

"Prowl hasn't had a real sparring challenge in the ring since before I met him," Jazz commented absently, his focus on the mechs fighting. "He's beautiful to watch."

"Very." Windswept had to agree, watching in awe. There was none of the wildness, the edge of desperation that was accustomed to seeing.

Drift had come closer to what he was seeing when he watched Prowl when the white warrior was alone and lost himself in what he was doing. But never when he was with an opponent. The flow to Prowl's motion was smoother, closer to a dance, and he found himself fascinated.

Was this what Drift had faced with Wing? Was this what a _Knight_ looked like?

"Do you know what Drift's style is called?" Jazz asked conversationally, his optics never leaving the smooth strike, block, parry of his mate.

"No. He's never given it an actual name." Windswept finally answered, his attention finally moving from Prowl to center on Drift, taking in the minute details he could read after watching for so long.

The seriousness and focus was there, like it was with every fight. He looked for the enjoyment that had been present during the match with Titanium and saw little of it. There was the enjoyment in violence that Drift always displayed, but there was a focus there that Windswept had never seen before.

"It's a close derivative of Metallikato," Jazz supplied. "Might even be Metallikato. Prowl's a master of Circuit-Su, though he's picked up moves from most major forms."

Windswept settled back against the wall, watching as the match moved from the testing stage into the actual sparring, and he flinched. Barring some sort of miracle, he could pretty much predict how the match was going to end.

His optics flickered between Jazz and the match, watching how the black and white mech's visor followed his mate. "How long have you known Prowl?"

"Mmm, we first crossed paths a few centuries before the war, though I don't actually count that as when we met," Jazz chuckled. "We didn't really do more than nod in the corridors until after Optimus became Prime. That's when Prowl started to take a direct hand in planning Ops missions, which meant he started to spend a lot of time around me."

"And from there..." Windswept could pretty much make the connections himself.

"It depends on who you ask," Jazz winked his visor. "I say he swept me off my pedes. He says I teased and tormented him until he decided the only logical course of action was to get something enjoyable out of me. According to most we danced around each other for centuries before I finally jumped him."

Centuries ... Windswept allowed his thoughts to linger on that for a moment as the two sparring mechs broke for a moment, circling each other and taking a moment to collect themselves. Prowl looked far more centered than Drift, and that worried the blue mech.

Refocusing as Drift struck, most likely looking for some sort advantage against his opponent and not finding any openings in Prowl's defenses.

"How old is Prowl?" Windswept asked, suddenly wondering when the mech had time to formally study to such a skill level in so many things.

"Old," Jazz said softly. "He was sparked an enforcer for Praxus near the end of Guardian's reign and served there through Nova's. Sentinel Prime promoted him to his personal staff as an emergency coordinator and when the war became inevitable became his Chief Tactician. Optimus promoted him from TIC to SIC."

Windswept optics flickered, almost missing the hit that landed on Drift that marked the first damage of the match. The blue mech could barely wrap his processor around functioning so long. "How does he do it?"

"Do what?" Jazz glanced at the blue mech curiously.

"Function so long." The idea was difficult to Windswept as he thought through what Jazz had told him, of all of the changes that Prowl had seen and experienced. To someone who had been created for a single purpose and never considered, much less looked for, a life beyond that purpose it was almost enough to cause a processor freeze.

"Never occurred to him to give up," Jazz shrugged, watching the lighting-fast exchange of blows that left Drift with several more cuts to his armor. "He was sparked to serve. As long as someone has use for him, he'll keep going."

Windswept shook his helm, flinching and cataloging the damage he could see to Drift from here. Hopefully Ratchet would forgive them paying another visit to his medical bay so close to the last one.

"Could you give up and extinguish while Drift still wanted you?" Jazz asked, flinching in sympathy as Drift finally scored a strike and managed to make it to the tip of Prowl's ruby chevron as the Praxian ducked under the swing.

"No."

The blue mech didn't even have to consider his answer. His entire world revolved around Drift, even now. Without him Windswept had no purpose, no direction, no reason to function.

He would never leave Drift while he was needed or wanted.

"Prowl's the same way," Jazz nodded towards his mate. "He has his duty. It's all he really needs. I'm just a bonus."

"You undervalue yourself," Prowl commented as Drift ducked under one sword and blocked the other.

A small, warm smile, one very different from his usual jovial one, crossed Jazz's features.

The sincere expression caught Windswept's attention, making him wonder and question all the same time until it was hidden away once more. When he was caught staring he re focused quickly on the match, his optics noting the new damage to Drift.

A small part of him hoped that Drift wouldn't stubbornly hold out until he collapsed. The energon leaking from some of the deeper hits Prowl had scored certainly making that a possibility. Whatever the outcome of the match - Windswept refused to believe Drift would lose until it actually happened - he was going to need some time to recharge and recover.

"Drift's good," Jazz snapped Windswept out of his contemplation. "Only a handful of mecha have ever lasted this long. Prowler's usually made a kill-shot by now."

"He's had a great deal of practice." Windswept murmured, a sad note to his voice. "And he is very stubborn."

"You'd rather he didn't have to fight as much?" Jazz asked, his voice gentle.

"I'd rather he wasn't injured so often." He'd rather when he did fight that it not against opponents who would be just as happy to see his frame graying at their pedes as to spit on him. He rather he didn't have to wonder if he every time Drift went out to battle if it was going to be the last time he saw him functioning.

"But if he didn't fight, he wouldn't be Drift." A hard truth that Windswept acknowledged, admitting it to himself and the mech leaning against the wall next to him.

"No, he wouldn't be," Jazz nodded. "Perhaps it's time to start finding out why he can't go home."

Windswept vented softly, aware of how any mention of home had Drift shutting up or moving on to another topic. "Can't...or won't."

Jazz nodded his acceptance of that and flinched in sympathy as Prowl cut a long gash across Drift's chest. It could be called a killing blow; much deeper or a slightly different angle on the blade and it would have cut into vitals and even the spark chamber well inside.

"That has got to hurt," Jazz murmured, watching as Drift didn't really react.

"It doesn't." But it would raise warnings and alarms in the other mech, enough that Windswept hoped Drift would do the right thing and forfeit.

This was training, sparring for knowledge and personal enjoyment, not a battle to be won at all cost. Optics locked on Drift the blue mech hovered at the edge of the sparring circle.

"That's cheating," Jazz scowled with a look at Windswept. "Can't turn sensors off."

"He doesn't," the blue mech said stiffly as he watched Drift grit his denta and moved to circle with Prowl. Every line of his frame screamed frustration and building anger like nothing Windswept had seen before. "He doesn't have more than basic temperature and pressure sensors, except for his spike."

Jazz grunted with a nod and focused on the match, trying to work out if Prowl was going to end this quickly or turn it into a lesson for Drift.

Windswept's optics were locked on his mate, small signs of distress starting to show in his frame as he watched Drift and struggled to contain his own reactions.

All three fingers of Prowl's tri-wing sensor panels flared wide. It wasn't just a display to intimidate, but a signal that Prowl was so confident of his superior standing in the situation that he no longer had to guard his most vulnerable parts.

It earned a volatile growl from Drift, who shifted into a more aggressive stance.

Prowl inclined his helm and flicked his swords across each other before relaxing into the defensive and allowing Drift to lash out.

Windswept could see the deliberate provocation, the invitation, and the writing on the wall.

His mate would not win this round, the furious offensive Drift responded with a last effort and not something that he would be able to sustain for long. Especially not with the ease that the Praxian met it, brushing aside the strikes with an apparently effortless ease.

"Prowl won't hurt him," Jazz tried to reassured the distressed mech. "Here or in the berth."

Windswept glanced at him, saw the truth and believed, but it was still distressing. A small part of him wondered if he would become accustomed to this; adjust so that his spark was quivering with worry even though his processor was insisting that there was nothing to fear.

"I know. But wouldn't you worry, if things were the other way around?"

"If Prowler was that distressed," Jazz nodded towards the ball of fury that was Drift. "Yes, real worried. But Prowl enjoys being submissive sometimes. I don't think it'll be so easy for Drift not to perceive this the worst way."

"Drift does not. He is very much about being in control. All the time. This..." Worried blue optics followed Drift, flinching as he faltered in his attack.

"He hasn't faced in a very long time," Jazz finished for him, his engine unconsciously revving in desire as Prowl put Drift out of his misery with one blade at the white warrior's throat and the other pressed tip-first over his spark.

"No." Windswept murmured in unconscious agreement, trembling in place by Jazz with the desire to go to his mate.

The clatter of Drift's short swords being dropped to the floor signaled the end of the match and Prowl stepped back to sheath his pair before giving a small nod to Windswept to come forward and collect his mate.

"You did better than I anticipated," Prowl told Drift, who merely grunted, all the civility of his facade of Knighthood stripped from him by the match. "I will see you in my quarters the night after Ratchet releases you."

The blue mech was by mate's side as soon as Prowl had finished speaking. Experienced hands slid over Drift's frame, finding and evaluating damage with the precision of long practice as Windswept's field reached out to brush against Drifts, cautious. It matched what his frame language said; a purity of frustrated anger that few Autobots managed mixed with the less obvious shame and fear.

"I will come," Drift responded with a stiff formality very much at odds with his normal manner.

Then First Aid was at Drift's side, his medic upgrades and experience with soldiers ready to snap proving useful as he meshed his field with Drift's and calmed him with a quiet force. "First, you're coming with me to be repaired."

"I will see myself to medbay," Prowl told the medic before leaving, collecting Jazz on the way.

"He'll teach you if you ask," First Aid said quietly once the black and white pair were out of the room. "It may not be your style...."

"Never learned a style, just survival," Drift grunted, unsettled by the ability of the medic to force him to calm.

Windswept moved out of First Aid's way but stayed close, his own tension draining away as the medic took care of the immediate damage. Instead he reached out, the same devotion and pride shining his field that was always there when it came to Drift.

His mate had made a good showing, even if he met someone more skilled and been bested.

::How can you be _proud_ of me?:: Drift scowled at him, more confused than angry.

::It was good match. Jazz was impressed.:: Windswept informed him quietly, optics glowing gently. ::And you claim me as your mate-::There was still a lingering undercurrent of wonder and awe at that fact. ::Why would I not be proud?::

::He beat me handily,:: Drift pointed out. ::He'll ... _take_ me soon.:: The shame and irrepressible fear glyphs were all over the transmission.

Confusion and concern rose, the blue mech moving close enough to touch and ignoring the look First Aid gave him. ::It's so bad?::

::Yes,:: the answer, a single word, held a wealth of new information for Windswept about why Drift had never had his valve repaired ... and a question of just who had torn it out.

A shudder ran through him, and Windswept pressed against him thinking. He vented softly, still ignoring First Aid as the medic worked around him. They would have to move soon, but...::Let me go.::

"No!" Drift lurched to his pedes and grabbed Windswept by the shoulders. "No," he said more evenly but just as firmly. "You will not pay for my failures."

"Not a failure." Windswept growled in return, slightly irritated. With a sigh he got himself under control again. "You know I don't mind that. I do mind that you don't _want_ it."

Drift deflated. "Prowl will have to agree."

"Then ask him." Windswept murmured, tracing his fingers lightly over the gash in Drift's chest before leaning forward to rest his helm against it. "Or I will."

"Windswept...." Drift sighed with fond exasperation. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Let me stay, I hope." The comment was light, but the fear under it was real. It was a fear the blue mech still struggled with, a constant in his functioning he had yet to overcome.

"As long as you want to," Drift murmured, resting his chin on Windswept's helm.

"Now that you have that sorted out, it's time for the medbay repairs," First Aid gently urged them to get moving, gentle but firm.


	9. The Reason for the Challenge

Windswept took a moment to collect himself outside of the Second in Command's office before pinging a request for the entry. The base computer had been quite helpful in directing Windswept to Prowl, and the blue mech had decided to take advantage of the medical stasis Drift was currently under to pay the Praxian a visit and plead his case.

If everything went as Windswept was praying to Primus it would he would be back at his mate's side when Drift came out of stasis with news that would ease the warrior's processor.

"Enter," Prowl's voice was perfectly level, professional to the point of sounding like a drone.

Windswept stepped inside the door and waited quietly as it slid closed behind him. Curious optics made a quick sweep of the office, to find it as neat and tidy as he had been expecting. A bit more colorful than expected with a large painting on the wall facing the single large desk, set perfectly for Prowl to look at as he worked. There was a small shelf of knick-knacks that didn't seem quite right with the rest of the room, but the mech himself dominated the space.

"How may I help you, Windswept?" Prowl asked politely.

The blue mech studied him for a moment, optics meeting the Praxian's squarely as he cut straight to the point. "Release Drift from his obligation."

An optic ridge arched slightly and both sensor wings opened just a bit in surprise. "Why would I do such a thing?"

Blue optics flickered as Windswept considered his answering, composing it carefully. "What you ask of him...it goes beyond just a loss of control. It-it frightens him. Worse than frightens." Everything that had with the simple answer, all of the emotion and memories that had gotten from Drift rose in memory.

Strength returned to the blue mech. "Is fulfilling your wager to the letter worth his suffering?"

"The wager is to help him," Prowl said simply. "He will not deal with this issue on his own. If the Decepticons capture him again this damaged they will break him."

"And this was your solution?" Windswept growled. He could see the truth in Prowl's analysis, and the potential for what he was predicting to come true. But surely there was a better way, or a least a way that did not involve his mate suffering torture so that he would be prepared to potentially face more.

"Ratchet, Smokescreen and Jazz's actually," he corrected. "I am involved because I am one of the few capable of defeating him in a match. I heard Jazz tell you I would not hurt him. I have no intention of doing so."

Windswept sighed, trying to reconcile himself to the reasoning. Drift would be hurt anyway. "I came here to make you an offer. Me- in his place."

 Desperate optics focused on the Praxian. "He'll get the repairs. Ratchet's already working on them."

"He needs to _use_ it," Prowl pointed out. "He must learn that penetration does not equal pain and humiliation."

It was a lost cause, a fight that he would not win. Windswept could already see that. He knew perfectly well that taking it could be wonderful.

Drift had taught him that.

But if it was not willing it would always be painful and humiliating.

"You won't reconsider?" He asked quietly, trying one more time.

"Not without another plan in place," Prowl regarded him evenly.

"If he will accept it from someone else, willingly, would that be enough?"

"It would be preferable," Prowl nodded. "You are not partial to challenging or manipulating him, however. Why do you believe you can accomplish such a task?"

"Trust." It was a simple answer, but a true one. Fourteen vorns and Windswept had never been anything but true and honest with Drift. Windswept trusted Drift with his spark, the fears and doubts the echoes of the conditioning from the programming that _Drift_ had made sure was removed. And Drift trusted him.

Trusted him with his fears. With his weapons. With his functioning. And hopefully with this.

"One orn. Just one. Let me at least try."

Prowl considered him evenly. "I will give you three orns. I will arrange to be unavailable for the mereo payment that long. If you succeed I will ask him to show me his skill with his spike when he comes for the night. It will be easier for him to accept than you taking his place, and I do enjoy it."

"Thank you." Windswept just caught himself, his frame going weak with relief. It was going to be a battle to convince Drift, but if he failed...at least he would have tried.

Prowl inclined his helm. "We all have the same goal here. I will leave Iacon within the joor for some emergency. I am sure Jazz can find somewhere for me to be," a tiny smile of amusement for his mate crossed Prowl's features. "Go be with Drift when he is brought out of stasis."

"Thank you." It was all Windswept had to offer again as he obeyed the order, leaving the office and pulling up the shortest route to the med bay, trusting Prowl to uphold his promise.

* * *

Drift struggled to make his frame move the moment he realized he wasn't booting up normally. It was slow, meticulous, very much not the way it should be.

"Settle the slag down, youngling," a snarl reached his audios. A familiar one, at least familiar enough to be accepted.

"Ratchet," Drift's voice was slurred, his vocalizer booted but his full linguistic protocols not yet on line.

"Yeah, it's me. You've got a death wish, getting cut up that bad twice in less than a decaorn?" the CMO growled.

"Sparring," Drift mumbled as his field latched onto Windswept's nearby. "Not hurt _that_ bad."

It reached out in return, wrapping Drift in the comforting constant that was _Windswept_ , underscored now with joy. Here, half booted and largely unguarded thanks to the medical overrides, the emotional pain that Drift shielded Windswept from every orn was laid bare for a few brief moments to the young mech.

The flare of absolute horror when it registered that his valve assembly had been replaced was nearly enough to knock Windswept back.

Ratchet grunted. "Oh calm down, you. At least _I_ installed it correctly."

Drift growled, low and deadly, but it didn't matter to the CMO.

At the nod of permission from Ratchet a slightly shaken Windswept moved closer, devotion, hope, and belief that everything would be all right pushed at Drift. When that wasn't immediately rejected the blue mech snuggled close. As soon as he was fully in reach Drift pulled him onto the berth as he sat up, effectively pulling Windswept into his lap.

As disturbing as being so close to Drift's distress was, that his very presence soothed Drift's emotions was a wonderful thing to feel.

"You've escaped the reconstructive surgery enough times," Ratchet glared at Drift. "It was long past time I fixed it. It's not like you don't have someone to enjoy it with now."

"And just in time for Prowl's next lesson, I expect," Drift glared right back, daring the medic to contradict the SIC's role in this.

"If it's that bad for you, you shouldn't have accepted the terms," Ratchet pointed out without sympathy. "Never bet what you aren't willing to lose. Look, you can go. Just try not to tear it out until _after_ you're out of my jurisdiction this time."

Windswept tilted his helm to nuzzle at Drift, trying to distract him from his anger. "Let's go." 

He wanted the anger and distress still pushing against his field soothed, and he had little chance of accomplishing that as long as Drift remained where he could see Ratchet and fuel his anger.

With a small x-vent Drift nuzzled Windswept back, then nudged him to get up as Ratchet walked away.

The blue mech let him up but didn't move out of reach, directing Drift attention to the swords waiting within reach and waited as they slid into place. The familiar oddity of sensing how much the Great Sword smoothed Drift's emotions the moment it was in place bordered on surreal.

Windswept didn't have long to contemplate the mercurial nature of his mate's moods when he felt what he was hoping for most: arousal. Drift always felt better after a hard overload or three.

Welcome answered the arousal, Windswept hiding the smallest edge of fear for the moment as he pressed against Drift, purring into the possessive kiss before pulling back enough to speak. "From past experience I don't think Ratchet appreciates mecha putting on a show in his med bay."

"Then you had best hurry to our quarters," Drift's pale blue optics glittered. "Before I catch you."

Windswept purred, his optics flashing teasingly and his field filled with promise as he slipped away from Drift and headed for the exit, glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk.

The white warrior gave him a brief head start, then darted after him. He had every intention of catching his lover just after the door to their quarters closed and ravishing that perfect frame.

The blue mech had learned the twists and turns of the bases corridors during their stay, especially the routes that went from the med bay to the guest quarters they had been provided with. The knowledge let him stay one step ahead of Drift, but he barely managed to reach the door before the white warrior caught up with him.

Caught in Drift's powerful embrace as the door slid open Windswept moaned and shivered in anticipation when he felt his back pressed against the wall and Drift's pressurized spike pressed against his abdominal armor.

The soft click as his valve cover slid away, offering as he wrapped his arms around the white mech's shoulders and lifted his helm to meet the lust darkened optics, the want and desire echoed in his own.

This was right, good. This was where he belonged, in the arms of his mate smoothing away the stress and worry of the orn. Whether it was a hard, pounding assault as Drift expressed his frustrations or the excruciatingly slow, blissfully erotic slide of their frames when Drift took his time it was what Windswept lived for.

He could feel in Drift's field and his movements that there was no holding back, no muted sensors or intention to savor. This was Drift at his most primal, the one moment when he wasn't out to drive Windswept to the brink of ecstasy. This was Drift _taking_ because he needed it, needed to feel completely dominant and selfish.

Submission wove through Windswept's field, and with it the desire to be taken and used, feelings that were only ever for Drift.

"Yours." The blue murmured against the warrior's neck. "Take me. Use me. I'm yours."

A deeply resonate growl rumbled up to vibrate both their frames as Drift thrust deep and hard, already near the edge. His hands reached down to grip Windswept's hips, pulling him into each thrust until Drift grunted into a roar as his overload flooded both their systems tinged with relief from Drift.

Acceptance and content calm rolled from Windswept as he leaned against Drift, purring softly as he came down from the rush. Finally he turned his helm to kiss Drift.

"Berth?" He suggested softly, then moaned as Drift withdrew from his valve and set him down gently, claiming another kiss before leading his mate to the berth they had shared since Windswept had been freed from effects of the slave coding. The loss still created the odd echo in Windswepts systems, when past conditioning went looking for something that no longer existed. He was grateful that Drift wanted him to be himself, even more grateful at how little it had truly changed things, but it still made him wonder on occasion what he would have become if he'd never had it. His desire to serve, submit and care for another was in his spark, but he would have never come to be with Drift.

The very idea made him shudder as he steered a willing Drift onto the berth.

He followed the white mech, frames flush for a gentler kiss. Then Windswept pulled back, optics and hands running over Drift's frame and picking out all the minor imperfections before looking up for permission.

In a way it was another ritual between them. Any time Drift faced repairs at the hands of a medic Windswept would detail his frame once the warrior was released and sated.

A low rumble of approval came from Drift as his field reached out to caress Windswept with affection.

The approval drew a soft purr from Windswept, the blue mech retrieving the kit he had moved within reach of the berth before Drift was ever released.

Contentment and peace drifted into the field meshed with his mate's as he set to work, the simple contact settling to both of them. It was true, it did not feel good to Drift as it did with most mechs, but the care and attention to him did feel good and after vorns together Drift no longer held back that feeling.

It caressed Windswept's field, warm and accepting of the care and affection and the honesty behind it. Care and attention that Drift appreciated and Windswept wanted to give, desires of his own spark and never of the programming as he worked over every inch of Drift's frame until he reached the warriors interface.

A few gentle strokes of the soft cloth he was holding over the fresh repair before Windswept leaned down and planted a light kiss on the panel, soft and reverent.

Drift shuddered at the jolt of pleasure that hit his neural net unanticipated. Even with Wing he had never associated a touch there with pleasure, so when it happened it always came as a surprise.

When there was no immediate demand for him to stop Windswept repeated the action, glossa joining in to pleasure. Through his entire field was his pleasure, his desire, and a reminder of his devotion to Drift as he moved slowly.

He wanted to give this, if Drift would accept. But everything about it had to be Drift's choice.

A low moan escaped Drift as his hips rocked into the contact. There was an edge of unease in his field, but not rejection.

Windswept smiled, nuzzling against the valve cover encouragingly but not pushing.

Another moan and most of the unease faded, replaced by pleasure and a slowly growing desire.

Matching desire from came from Windswept, and the first gentle touch of his fingers against the cover. "Let me share?" the request sincere, the blue mech wanting the share the pleasure just the _chance_ to do this was causing in him.

A tremble passed through Drift as he looked down at the mech between his legs, struggling with the idea of voluntarily baring his valve and the idea that Windswept would do anything that wasn't good.

After a too-long moment, the soft click of a latch unlocking and snick of the panel retracting filled the silence.

Drift went sharply tense, watching with intent optics, but did nothing to stop it.

Soothing calm traveled through meshed fields as Windswept purred, soft optics taking the time to study before venting softly and leaning in, lips kissing softly at the outermost edge of the sensor net as his fingers traced around another edge, leaving the valve untouched for the moment.

A low moan came from Drift as his optics darkened with pleasure, turned on as much by the sight of Windswept using his glossa as the sensations. He moved one hand to stroke Windswept's helm, encouraging him as much as he could make himself at the moment.

A fresh rush of pleasure at the encouragement as Windswept continued to work his way closer to the exposed valve, taking his time as he explored every centimeter of the new valve. Anything that made Drift moan, caused any spike in the pleasure coming from the larger mech received extra attention.

Windswept's entire goal was that the whole experience be one that Drift would remember, but even more than that he wanted it to be an experience his mate would remember and desire to repeat. And with that in mind he centered all of his considerable skill on achieving that goal. By the time he flicked his glossa experimentally around the inner rim of Drift's valve, the white mech was moaning, his helm back and optics off. Even better the new valve was quivering, thick with lubricant and begging for deeper attention.

A moan rose from Windswept at the first true taste of his mate, glossa working just inside the rim until the first hints of need and want through the field pushed him deeper.

Careful attention found what he was seeking, the sensor nodes in the lining of all valves. Bracing himself on the berth Windswept concentrated all of his attention on that first point.

Drift's hand flexed rhythmically, encouraging without force as he lifted his knees. His moans filled the room as he rocked into the attention, enjoying it as pleasure forced him to stop thinking about what was being touched.

"Wind...." he breathed, his entire frame trembling with the building pleasure.

A soft hum as Windswept thrust his glossa deeper. He'd done this to others before when they had shared their berth with outsiders. But nothing compared to this, to being able to pleasure his mate and feel the pleasure that Drift was experiencing.

::Enjoy. Let me do this for you. Please.:: Windswept pleaded softly over a comm line, asking only what he thought Drift could give and nothing more.

"Yes," Drift hissed, his frame nearly arching off the berth at the next brush of glossa against never before touched sensor node. His fingers tightened against Windswept's helm and pulled him closer, nearly crushing the blue mech's faceplates against his lower interface array as his hips rocked, thrusting into the glossa.

It didn't take an intimate familiarity with Drift to know he was right on the edge and willing to crash over.

Windswept pushed his glossa against the same node, seeking to give Drift that final push over the edge into pleasure. Anything pertaining to his own comfort was irrelevant in the moment, Drift's overload his entire goal.

With a cry that was half roar and half keen Drift's entire frame tightened and locked up with energy roaring through him. A fresh wash of lubricant soaked into the valve to coat Windswept's glossa and faceplates.

The blue mech welcomed it all, the energy and pleasure that rushed over him and left his entire frame quivering in its wake.

He didn't try to move again until the overload induced tension started to drain from his lover's frame. Gentle attention from his glossa quickly had the worst of the mess cleaned from his lover and Windswept lifted his helm to actually view the results of his work. The lax frame, humming with the last traces of overload energy and venting hard, was a beautiful sight.

Even more was the half formed desire to be _filled_ as Drift's valve and its protocols complained of overloading without a spike to squeeze.

Hopeful, but honestly overjoyed that Drift had allowed Windswept to overload him like that, the blue mech found the cloth he had discarded earlier and cleaned himself up before making his way up his mate's frame.

Draping himself across the larger mech he nuzzled gently at Drift's helm and purred when a clumsy arm wrapped around him.

"Maybe I won't take it out," Drift murmured. "Not like I'm captured often."

"I enjoyed it." Windswept murmured, kissing Drift to emphasize the point. "Do it again, any time you'll allow." He added.

Drift hummed into another kiss, this one more assertive, though he was still largely lax from two hard, fast overloads. "I will," he decided. "Never had a lover who really liked doing that."

Windswept purred in absolute pleasure, his field a tumbling mix of joy and happiness, edged with his own desires and bright with the energy from Drift's overload.

With a soft smiled and nuzzle Drift whispered. "Want to ride my spike, burn off that energy?"

The ripple of eager excitement that ran through the blue mech's field was echoed in the kiss he twisted to place on the warrior's lips. Rising smoothly to straddle Drift's hips optics met, Windswept's full of strong desire and need.  
"Please."

A shadowed smile and Drift unlatched his spike cover, allowing the sensitive length of metal to extend. His moan and optic flash was honest as Windswept guided his spike into the ready valve.

"Your pace," Drift said as they settled, interface panels flush.

With a soft whimper Windswept tuned his field precisely to his lover's, optics locking with Drift's so he could judge the state of the other mech. The arousal was real, was focused on him, but there was that unfamiliar edge of Drift pushing himself into something he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

Then Windswept moved, valve squeezing and rippling around the spike as the blue mech initiated a controlled rhythm, savoring the stretch and slide of the spike pleasuring his valve. The pleasure that assaulted his field from Drift wasn't at all faked, though it wasn't as intense as when Drift took him, dominated him completely.

A low moan and Drift reached out to hold Windswept's hips. Not controlling, but a connection, a soft touch of fingers rubbing the joints and upper legs.

Windswept trembled but held steady. There weren't words for what he was feeling, so instead he simply felt and shared.

Understanding of what Drift was giving by giving Windswept the chance to control their lovemaking. Thanks and the lingering awe that Drift had made it so Windswept could even do what he doing now, fulfilling his own desires and pleasures in a way that the old programming would never have allowed. The spark deep devotion that Drift could now be sure was Windswept's genuine feelings for the warrior.

The ripple of emotions made Drift shudder and groan in the intense mixture of pleasure. He moved one hand inward to stroke over Windswept's spike cover, questioning and offering.

The offer was accepted with a moan, spike pressurizing into the waiting touch as the blue mech's optics grew brighter with the growing charge in his systems. Such an orn for firsts. _Pleasurable_ firsts. He shuddered and focused on keeping his rhythm, on feeling the differences in the act between being on top and being on his back. The sensations were much the same, but oh, it _felt_ so different.

It was good, and that Drift would do this for him was bliss. He _must_ mean a great deal for the warrior to do this.

The thought drew another moan from him, and a small part of him knew that when this was all over he was going to have to stop and assimilate it all, all of the new that he literally had not been able to feel before.

But for the moment he was caught up in feeling pleasure, and sharing the pleasure he was feeling. Seeking, he started to move faster as the charge drove him to find and feel more. Drift's hips moved up to meet his, the black hand on his spike stroked in a smooth counter-rhythm ... and most of all Drift's pale blue optics were on him, taking in his pleasure and his movements with a hunger that matched his charge.

The circuit it created only drove Windswept's charge higher- the hunger focused on him, his desire for the mech who wanted him, and the pleasure and energy looping between them picking away at his self control until he felt on the verge of the flying apart.

"Try to hold back enough to _watch_ your spike overload," Drift murmured, his vents wide open as he struggled to control his own charge. "Watch your transfluid arc and spread across my frame."

The idea was enough to send a shudder through Windswept, and he shifted to brace himself better, rocking into the hand on his spike as his field took on an edge of desperation until a final squeeze sent him over the edge.

His mate's designation pulled from him as he overloaded into Drift's hand, the vision before him something that he would never forget.

Silvery-purple transfluid, _his_ transfluid, arched from him to splash on Drift's chest, _visibly_ marking the white warrior as his.

The sight was enough to set off a second overload, the blue mech driving back on the spike in his valve until his entire frame locked up from the energy overriding all of his control. He retained just enough awareness to _feel_ when Drift shifted both his hands to Windswept's hips and thrust up hard and fast, seeking his own release.

With a roar Drift flooded Windswept's valve with thick, hot transfluid as his frame nearly arched off the berth as he sought to get even deeper inside his lover.

Utterly spent and more content than he could ever recall being in his entire functioning Windswept collapsed across his lover when his frame was released from the grip of overload.

Wonder and awe filled his field as he lay across Drift, but little in the way of actual coherent thought as he basked in the feeling and the joy of having Drift feel just as sated and content.

Gradually they regained coherency, but all Drift was inclined to do was remain there, stroking Windswept's back and enjoying the tingling afterglow and cooling of their systems.

"Still afraid of the future?" Drift asked softly.

"Not as long as I am with you." Windswept murmured in reply, nuzzling affectionately at Drift's helm. But there was a peace in his field that hadn't been there before whenever he was asked about the future, an acceptance and a growing confidence in himself.

"Good," Drift smiled and stroked him affectionately. "After we've recovered and had some energon..." his voice trailed off as he realized he didn't even know the words for what he wanted, what he needed to ask for. "I want you to spike me," he settled for something far less than the full need. "I don't want Prowl to be the first with this valve."

For a moment Windswept froze, spark flaring in surprise.

Then he turned to kiss the warrior gently. "He won't be." He promised, leaning into Drift and his field with support and awed affection.

This was far, far beyond his wildest hopes, even if it was clear that it wasn't desire so much as distress driving the request. Surely this would be enough for Prowl.

* * *

Refueled and rested Windswept lay snuggled against Drift's side, his field gently meshed with the larger mech's. He hadn't forgotten what Drift had asked, and he was taking advantage of the quiet moment to think.

Drift had accepted the first attention to his new valve. Had even admitted that he would be willing to allow Windswept to pleasure him that way again in the future.

Windswept had no such high hopes for what was to come next, but he was still determined make it as much of a positive experience as he could. Venting softly he lifted himself enough to kiss Drift lightly, seeking to gauge his mate's mood in the returned kiss.

Pensive. Yes, that was a good description of it. It wasn't fear, not like when he first saw Prowl's swords, but he wasn't looking forward to what was to come.

Accepting, the blue mech shifted until he was straddling Drift again, looking into the pale blue optics as his field pushed deeper in the other mech.

Care, compassion, readiness, and gentle searching. "You still want this?"

"As much as I can," Drift nodded with determination. "I need this ... of you."

"I am yours." Windswept murmured, deep truth and conviction behind the words. He was Drift's, and Drift was his, to care for as the white mech deserved.

With that he slid down the warriors frame, settling himself comfortably on the berth and stroking Drift's spike cover. It snapped open quickly, the touch too familiar not to respond to and soon Windswept was lightly stroking Drift's spike. Desire flared in Windswept's field, and taking a moment to admire the spike that was his pleasure he bent to kiss it gently, stroking the whole the time.

The pleasure in Drift's field was the single thing he was looking for to make his next move, one hand wandering down to caress the valve cover lightly, requesting access. The reaction wasn't as quick, but it opened with little hesitation.

Drift's pale optics were on him, watching him, and showed his struggle.

He needed Windswept to be strong right now, to not falter in the agreed-upon course of action.

There was no sign of hesitation, not even a hint of faltering as Windswept continued to lavish attention on Drift's spike while his fingers caressed and teased at the valve, joy and pleasure rolling from him as he focused on building the pleasure. He knew he made the right choice on how to do this when Drift moaned, his stress lowering as the familiar pleasure mixed with the unfamiliar to make the new touch easier to accept.

Gentle fingers continued to caress the valve, gathering the lubricant teased from the opening until a single digit slipped past the rim, seeking the same sensor nodes from earlier.

Throughout it all Wind pulled recalled his own memories of being spiked and the absolute pleasure that could come with it when it was given by a lover. He pushed those feelings through his field, trying to encourage Drift to do more than stoically accept what was coming. He wanted his mate to enjoy this so badly he ached. This was _meant_ to be enjoyed.

A small edge of impatience in Drift's field encouraged Windswept to keep going.

Moaning, Windswept added another finger, seeking and finding the sensor nodes and reveling in the feedback he was receiving.

With a quiet snap the blue mech's cover slid away, spike pressurizing into the heated air between Drift's legs. Their frames knew what they wanted, even Drift's eager and ready as his legs spread a little more and his hips rolled up in a silent, all but unconscious offer.

It was enough to convince Windswept.

He raised his optics to meet Drift's, shifting around to line his spike with the white mechs valve. "Yours." He whispered, leaning forward and sinking slowly into the tight valve. Savoring, sharing.

Drift moaned and offlined his optics, focusing on feeling, on accepting that this act with this mech was different than it was. That with _this_ mech, as with Wing, there was no intent to control him, no demand that he submit, no humiliation.

This ... was pleasure. Perhaps never his favorite, but it was pleasure, and it was safe.

A low shiver passed through Drift's frame as the truth sank in just a bit.

Yes, he was _safe_ with Windswept, just as he had been safe with Wing.

Pleasure. Care. Devotion. Topmost among a swirl of emotions in Windswept's field. It felt very much like Wing's to Drift, and it helped him relaxed into it more. This would never be his _favored_ activity, but he could learn to enjoy it when Windswept wanted it enough.

The hint of acceptance and the blue mech pulled out, pausing, and slid back in with a moan of pleasure that was echoed by Drift.

Slowly, so very slowly, Drift's field and frame relaxed fully into the pleasure and he began to respond, rocking his hips into the thrusts.

Settled, Windswept started to change his thrust, each one a little different from the last as he sought to discover exactly what brought Drift the most pleasure, what would drive his mate to overload like this in the most pleasurable fashion.

Secondary attention was returned to Drift's spike as well, knowing hand stroking the familiar length with the same desire to please.

A rumbling moan of appreciation and Drift began to roll his hips more, seeking comfort in the familiar pleasure, the emotionally safe pleasure, to take his processors off what else was happening to his frame.

Safety and complete trust, what Windswept felt with Drift. The desire to please and be pleased, to share pleasure as Windswept's next thrust found a spot deep in Drift's valve that sent a shudder through his mate's entire frame.

With a small smile thrust again, harder, seeking to push Drift farther, to push him over the edge into release like Drift had done so many times for him.

The change in angle allowed him to lean forward more, the white mech's lips finally in reach, and Windswept brushed a kiss over those as well. Drift's arms wrapped around him, holding him as the charge licked up from their plating to tease the other.

Their vents wide open and fans on full, it wasn't long before the rare pleasure of a valve around his spike was too much for Windswept, even though Drift wasn't on the edge yet.

Slightly desperate, wanting Drift to find release when he did. The blue mech thrust harder as he struggled to hold on.

"Won't work," Drift groaned, kissing him hard. "Let go."

Permission.

With a cry Windswept did, grabbing tightly to Drift as he stopped fighting and gave into the rush of energy. It crackled through every inch of his frame, jumping between him and the white warrior, surging through his field and the transfluid spilled inside Drift's valve.

It pushed Drift close, but not close enough.

Before the first rush of charge had even left Drift had them flipped over and was pounding into Windswept's valve, as desperate for release as his mate was to give it to him. It only took a few thrusts and he roared, his frame bowing as it tightened and he flooded Windswept's valve with hot, electricity-saturated transfluid.

Spent and exhausted, Windswept finally pulled himself together enough to nuzzle gently at Drift in apology. "Sorry."

"Rarely worked even with Wing," Drift murmured as they settled into a comfortable embrace to relax and recover.

That ... was a small comfort, and one Windswept was willing to accept as he snuggled against his mate.

* * *

Windswept powered up from light recharge as Drift shifted him in preparation to get up, his field tense and uneasy.

Half processing, Windswept grabbed on to him, his own field questioning as he reached out. "What is it?"

"It's time to go to Prowl," Drift said calmly as he soothed Windswept's hands back down. "I'll be back in the morning."

Windswept reached out for him again, guilt and apprehension in his field. "Wait."

"I have to go," Drift said gently, though he did still. "I gave my word."

"Three orns." Windswept looked up, optics finally meeting Drift's. "Something came up that demanded Prowl's attention."

Surprise flickered across Drift's features as he pinged the base computer for confirmation and belatedly checked his messages. All the tension drained from him in an instant and he sank to the berth. "Nice."

"He won't let me take your place." Windswept informed him, not meeting his optics again and cringing slightly.

Drift focused on him completely. "Because he doesn't want you, or he knew I'd object?"

"He expressed no feelings about me one way or another." Windswept confessed. "He didn't seem to think you would be pleased if he accepted my offer, and informed that he wouldn't let you out of the wager. That it was for your own good."

That got an optic ridge arched up and pale blue optics intensified in color. "For my own good?"

Windswept nodded. "It wasn't enough that Ratchet made the repairs. Prowl said you needed to use it as well."

A low, feral growl of pure hatred rumbled up from Drift's chassis as a snarl marred his features before he settled himself by force for Windswept's good. "What the _Pit_ makes him think it's any of his business?"

"They are concerned about you." Windswept told him, understanding the why behind their actions even if he still didn't agree with how they chose to go about it. "That's why Prowl made the wager. He wouldn't take me instead, but he agreed to not ask _that_ of you, on one condition."

With a shudder he forced himself to look Drift in the optics. "You had to let someone else spike you."

"Which I have," Anger cooled quickly as it sank in that in preparing for Prowl he'd just avoided what he was preparing for.

Windswept nodded, still watching Drift, his field pulled close as the entire set of his frame sang of distress. "He agreed to let me try. I'm-I'm sorry."

He had done it for Drift, wanting to save his mate. But what he had done...was it any better than what they had been planning to do to Drift?

"I would have asked you to even if you hadn't spoken to him," Drift murmured, then leaned in to kiss him lightly. "Thank you," he managed to say, having nearly as much difficulty with it as with being spiked.

Windswept trembled, looking up at him in surprise. "You're welcome."

"If I hadn't asked, how did you plan to convince me?" Drift asked, curious.

"I hadn't really." Windswept admitted, moving a little closer, cautious but finally starting to lose the tension in his frame as it became apparent that Drift wasn't angry with him. "Start with detailing you, seeing how close you would allow me, then going from there."

Drift x-vented and tucked Windswept against him. "Not sure how long that would have taken if I wasn't expecting Prowl to demand to use it ... but that doesn't have to be the last time we do it."

The blue mech snuggled against his side, relieved. "Can be if you want it to. Prowl won't ask it of you now, and I want you to be happy."

"Maybe I want to break that hold they have on me," Drift stroked Windswept's back lightly, his tone thoughtful as he considered his reasons for his thoughts. "Maybe I want you to enjoy all the options too."

Windswept arched into the touches. "I enjoy anything with you." He looked up at Drift, a small smile on his face. "I wouldn't say no to another chance to please you."

"You usually please me," Drift kissed the top of his helm as his fingers found sensitive seams to tease. "You've always pleased me in the berth."

The blue mech in his arms squirmed, stretching up to kiss Drift. "I try." He snuggled against Drift. "Tell me what you want of me."

"To enjoy," Drift grinned and pressed Windswept to his back, kissing his mouth before working down to the blue mech's neck.

Windswept moaned, tilting his head so that Drift could do as he pleased, submissive to the demands of his mate. To him this was bliss, to submit to the demands of the mech he trusted with everything he was.

He wrapped his arms around he white mech, savoring the feeling of being pinned.

"Yours." He whispered. "Take what you need."

Because even now in taking Drift gave so much to the mech who existed to care for him.


	10. A Mate's Value

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Codes** : Graphic Rape

The blue mech wove through the crowds of the bustling spaceport with ease. Though not particularly large, it was a key point along the trade route that Drift had chosen to follow this time and was always busy. It was familiar enough to Windswept that he had set out on his own to acquire the supplies they needed to restock, most of his list already checked off and arranged to be delivered later in the orn to where the Wing's Spark was docked.

The last item on the official list, a resupply of the various forms or energon Drift liked to have onboard, was best purchased from a trader on the far side of the port. Windswept also happened to recall that the last time he and Drift had been in port there had been a merchant with an interesting selection of datafiles, some musical and some text, not far from the energon dealer.

So on Windswept's unofficial list was hopefully a new file for him to study on the next leg of their journey. And supplies to refill the detailing kit he liked to keep around, but those could be purchased and carried with him on his return to the ship.

He veered off the main thoroughfare and on to a side street, leaving the worst of the crowd behind him and vented softly in relief. While it was nice to see civilization again, the quiet of this section of the port was more to his liking and he slowed to a more leisurely pace. He enjoyed the heavier mech presence here too. Organics were fine and all, but many of them looked at him like he was a threat, or at least something that disgusted them, just because he was Cybertronian. This far from their homeworld it was no longer uncommon to visit a spaceport and dress in hooded cloaks and robes to avoid being recognized for what they were.

Here though, in this quarter, Cybertronians had made their claim and most organics stayed away.

Memory guided him to the energon dealer, and the friendly mech was more than willing to sell him what he needed, even if he did drive a hard bargain for the small amount of mild medical grade energon that Windswept needed to purchase on top of the usual supplies.

Hard to find this far from Cybertron or not, he was still asking too much.

Satisfied with the deal- the price he got on the highgrade was enough to make up the difference, so Windswept didn't complain too loudly-he started down the street in the search of the file merchant.

He didn't see it happen, or even feel it.

Just one moment he was walking down the street and the next he was struggling to boot up, flat on his back in a place that was definitely not where he'd been.

"He's booting," an unfamiliar voice called from several paces away.

Systems responded sluggishly, and several minor error files flashed at him, demanding attention and complaining of the crash he had experienced.

Crash?

Windswept selected the override that would force his optics to boot, granting him a view of wherever he was as they focused.

The owner of the voice was a mech, a grounder a bit larger than Drift that was mostly red with black and green highlights. The space was large, open and fairly dark.

"So you're Deadlock's mate," the red mech sneered at him. "Pretty thing. You'll bring a good price after we have him."

"Drift." Windswept corrected automatically, processor still foggy as he tried to work out what happened and where he was.

"Same mech," the red one shrugged and stepped close to run his hand along Windswept's chassis. "At least to those willing to pay a fortune for him. But you ... you're going to be worth nearly as much. Such high quality work. What family are you from?"

The blue mech shuddered at the touch, wanting to flinch away only to find his motor functions were still impaired. At the same time he could only stare in confusion. "Family?"

"Who commissioned you," he rephrased. "You were very expensive. They might pay well to have you back."

"Capsong." Windswept answered after a moment. A mech he had never met, and a designation he would have never known save that Drift has mentioned it once long ago.

The red mech hummed as his hands continued to explore Windswept's frame. "Responsive. Good. Pleasurebots should be responsive," his hand came to rest on Windswept's spike cover.

"Not." Windswept growled in response, optics flaring. Out of everything that he had ever been called, Drift has never called him that, nor had he allowed Windswept to be treated that way. More than one potential berth partner had been shown the door when they insulted the blue mech that way.

"You will be soon enough," the red mech laughed darkly as his fingers moved down, testing the front valve cover. "You'll be whatever your new owner wants you to be."

"Won't." He didn't belong to anyone but Drift, freed by the white warrior and then claimed as his mate, with Windswept's consent. But even to himself he sounded desperate, his defiance more hope than anything else.

"We'll see," he was told with a smirk. "Now you can open like a good little pleasurebot, or I'll force it open."

The blue mech trembled, defiance in every inch of his tense frame, "No."

"You'll learn," the red mech's expression turned cruel. "It'll hurt a lot less when you're compliant."

With that he slid his fingers around, seeking the manual latch that every cover had for medical care and popped it.

Windswept tried to struggle, but the sluggishness of his systems and the strength of the mech holding him down made the futile gesture laughable. His legs were forced apart as his forward valve cover opened against his wishes. A single finger probed the entrance, judging slickness out of curiosity rather than care.

There was little there, between Windswept's unwillingness and the earlier side effect of his systems coming out of the forced stasis.

The red mech leaned in close as his frame moved to cover Windswept's. "It will hurt less if you comply." He repeated his advice as his spike extended and quickly reached full pressurization, greedy to take with no care to the feelings of the blue mech.

* * *

Underneath the spaceport, the rock was honeycombed in places with caves, old caverns, even hideaways cut by smugglers. Most of them were abandoned, and most of the permanent residents of the spaceport had all but forgotten about them. 

But not everyone.

Optics, yellow with a faint point of green, lit in the darkness. A mech unlike any other shifted, head turning, having caught a hint of sound and scent drifting down the tunnels. Soundlessly, the mech followed the sounds and scents, inhaling deeply to shake loose all the information he could. A deep hiss escaped a moment later as he placed the scent. Mercs. And with them, another scent, someone else.

Sensitive audials caught the words, the tone, and what he heard he didn't like. The captive was apparently bait, then doomed to being sold as a slave.

Idarassi shifted. Someone had to be looking for this mech. He would take the scent, then follow it. And the mercs would regret whatever they were doing.

The captive was not a local; his scent was of many visited worlds and especially of a ship, and one specific mecha. He smelled almost as much of his mate as he did of himself.

The ship meant the docks. A single other strong scent on him meant it was likely a small ship.

Green-yellow optics flared, sliding through the tunnels and finding a crack through which to get a look at the captive. No one even saw the forked something poking through the wall. Then Idarassi turned, heading down another tunnel as fast as his long body could take him. This tunnel led to the spaceport docks.

It didn't take long. He knew this area completely, knew every path to every location. The docks were soon above him, feeding air and the scents it carried with it to him.

Idarassi paused, his slender, forked glossa flicking out to taste the air. Catching a scent that matched the one on the captive mech, he headed directly for it, finding an access hatch and shoving it aside, tearing the bolts holding it shut out in the process.

The dockworkers noticed him first. While they were somewhat aware that there was something lurking in the shadows and the old tunnels, he was a very rare sight, and when they saw what was emerging from the tunnels, their immediate reaction was to get as far away from it as possible.

Ignoring them, Idarassi glided across the docks, following the scent. It led him to a relatively small ship docked out of the way, where it would most likely be overlooked by anyone with bad ideas in mind. Part of his body slid over the hull, creating a rasping sound that anyone inside would be able to hear.

He could hear an immediate response inside. A single mech scrambled to his pedes, grabbed several metal objects and ran for the side hatch rather than the main one.

Idarassi's audial panels twitched. He could feel the vibrations of the mech moving, curling around the ship to follow the movement. Most of him slid off the hull, coiling next to it while he waited. It didn't take long before a mostly white mecha launched himself into the open, well away from his ship, two short swords drawn and ready, a much larger one attached to his back and every line of him screaming of a warrior used to unpleasant surprises.

Pale blue optics landed on Idarassi, took in the serpent-mecha, the lack of attack and settled slightly. "What do you want?"

Idarassi tilted his head, then leaned down closer. His forked glossa flicked out, just barely skimming white armor, taking in his scent. This was the mech he was seeking, the one whose smell had been on the captive.

"I'm looking for you," the naga-mech replied, leaning back against his own coils. "Your smell was on the blue one."

Drift went sharply tense. "How do you know Windswept?" He asked even as he tried to ping his mate with no success.

Yellow-green optics turned as cold as ice. "Mercenariesss took him," was the response. "I live in the tunnels...; I caught hisss ssscent and followed it to where he wasss being held. Your ssscent on him led me to you."

A hard growl echoed up from Drift's engine as he sheathed his swords. "Where is he?"

The few individuals that saw them beat a hasty retreat at the aura of intent to kill that radiated from Drift.

"They're using him asss bait for you, ssso going through the front door might not be the bessst option... But I know the tunnelssss like the patternsss of my own ssscales. I know the back waysss in. But we should hurry... I did not like what they have planned for him." The long body uncoiled. "I am called Idarasssssi, by the way."

"Drift," he introduced himself. "Lead the way."

Trap or not, he could fight his way out of anything.

"Hold on," the naga-mech told him as the very end of Idarassi's body curled gently around Drift, lifting him up onto metal scales, setting him against the naga's back, where mech became serpent. The tension in Drift's frame at the sudden movement was nearly to the point where he drew his swords and attacked, thinking he was being attacked, but it registered what was going on quickly and he settled, laying flat on the serpent's back.

Idarassi turned and darted back across the docks, pouring into the access hatch and through the tunnels. He stayed low so that Drift wouldn't be scraped off, following the scent back to where Windswept was being held.

For such a huge creature, Idarassi was capable of surprising speed when he put his mind to it. He wove through the tunnels like a heat-seeking missile, faster than most grounders could move in a winding maze.

Finally, the naga slowed, lifting his upper body toward the ceiling, into a short but wide passage leading up. Looking back at Drift, he pointed to the wall, indicating that Windswept was behind it. Shifting, he hooked his clawed fingers into the old, crumbling wall, bringing up the end of his tail, preparing to break through and bring the wall down as soon as the white mech on his back was ready.

Drift moved quickly and silently, both his short swords at the ready and his stance one intent on bolting forward to protect and collect his mate the moment the wall was down.

Ida let out a very soft hiss, his tail whipping forward to deliver a blow that would send a gestalt head over skidplate, yanking backward at the same time. The wall came down in a crumbling mass against the naga-mech's scaled body, revealing the captive blue mech and exactly what the mercs were doing to him.

The roar of outrage from the white mech drew attention to the blur of motion that Drift had become as he launched himself in a furious attack on the mech that had dared take his mate's spark.

One merc, startled, ended up falling out of the new hole in the wall and right onto Ida. Within moments powerful coils had looped around the unfortunate merc and begin to tighten; Idarassi had been built along the lines of the powerful constricting serpents. His serpent half was built for pure power. The merc ended up crushed to scrap in his coils, then dropped onto the tunnel floor as the naga pushed his upper half into the room, keeping out of sword range and in general making life very difficult for the remaining mercs while Drift sliced them to pieces.

Even though Drift saw two of them running away, the moment there were no active threats left he turned and rushed to Windswept, his swords put away. His first concern was closing Windswept's chest plates, then verbally reassuring him as he checked for damage.

Idarassi looked at the two, then at the door the mercs had disappeared through. Carefully, he eased as much of his body as he could around the pair, using his thick coils to block the door, keeping anyone else from getting in. That done, he settled down, keeping his senses on alert for any new danger.

There was evidence of small damage everywhere. The scuffs and scrapes, the odd and stiff motion of joints that had been stressed in unnatural ways, the stress evidence of ports and covers being manually forced open, and most glaring the physical rend in the blue mech's chest plates.

But worse was the way that Windswept cringed away from Drift's touch, EM field pulled in so close that it barely registered outside his frame, and the distress in the overbright but unfocused optics.

With a grimace Drift pushed his field deep into Windswept's systems, forcing them to mesh. At the same time he uncoiled a cable and plugged in. ~Windswept, it's Drift,~ he called out to his mate, wrapping all his affection and concern in the designation glyph and emphasizing who was calling it. ~It's over. You're safe. I'm here. Drift is here.~

Keeping his distance, Idarassi watched, only looking away to surprise a merc trying to sneak up on him with a set of claws through the throat cables. Not even watching the merc go down, the half-serpent had turned his attention back to Drift and Windswept. His forked glossa flicked out, tasting the air. He could smell what had been done to the blue mech, grinding his denta with a soft, angry hiss. He'd been too late to prevent the rape.

Windswept had gone still with the additional forced contact, too tired to fight it anymore, before it started to register. Field contact was answered first, reaching slowly out to actually meet the contact forced upon it.

Hope. Relief.

Panic. Guilt.

~Not safe.~ The blue mech responded, struggling again. ~Trap.~

~More than the half dozen already dealt with?~ Drift focused his senses outward once more.

~Don't know.~ The blue mech in his arms confessed, frame beginning to tremble violently once more at the recall of recent abuse suffered at the hands of those mechs. ~Wanted you. Wanted you.~ He whimpered. ~Sorry. So sorry.~

~Shu, shu,~ Drift tried to sooth him, calm him. ~I'm the one who is sorry. I did not protect you. You should never have been in this danger, never have been captured.~ He rested his helm against his mate's and spoke to Idarassi. "Is there a trustworthy medic here? Some of these repairs are well beyond me."

The half-serpent thought for a moment. "There are not that many medicssss here," he replied finally. "And none I would really consssider truly trussstworthy. Your ssstandardsss are probably much ssstricter than mine. Thisss far from Cssybertron, with ssso many mercsss about, even a medic can eventually be forcssed to give up information. Not long ago a medic wasss killed here for refusssing."

"I only need to trust him enough to do the critical repairs right and not add any code or devices," Drift clarified. "Just enough so Windswept's safe and comfortable for the trip. He can tell afterwards. We'll be long gone."

Idarassi tilted his head slightly as he took that into account. "I do know of sssomeone, and he isss aware of me, which should be enough to get him to keep his mouth parts shut for a while." He uncoiled, his tail slipping back into the tunnels. Part of his long torso slid past Drift and Wind, offering a lift to the medic in question.

Drift nodded, willing to trust the serpent mecha again, even though the stakes were higher. He gently picked Windswept up, careful of the existing damage and to not pull the hardline out, and climbed on Idarassi's offered back.

Windswept's trembling was lessening, but the cause was exhaustion more than any conscious choice of the mech in Drift's arms.

Idarassi slipped into the tunnels, taking a different route. He was moving quickly, taking care not to jar his passengers. Finally coming to the surface, he flowed into a building, getting a startled yip from the red-and-white mech inside. 

The red and white was fairly tall, showing signs of at least two alt modes. The distinctive patterns of a medic showed boldly on his armor.

"Idarassi says I can trust you enough to repair and nothing else," Drift's voice was a gruff growl, stress triggering his worst temperament. "I just need him repaired enough to withstand a vorn in stasis while we travel."

"Thisss isss Medic Alert," Idarassi told the white warrior. "He'sss the bessst you'll find here."

The medic eyed the warrior with respectful wariness, turning to reveal a red faction crest on his shoulder, one that matched those on the front of Drift's long spaulders. "I took an oath to do no harm when I began training as a medic." He tilted his head toward the treatment area.

With a nod Drift slid off Idarassi's back, Windswept limp and largely unresponsive in his arms as he walked. "Group of mercs got him. As bad as Cons in what they did."

Medic Alert made a face, knowing what Drift meant. "I will repair all that I can." He began getting the treatment area ready, clearing out one corner, figuring that Drift would want to be able to keep a careful optic on what he was doing.

Idarassi arranged himself in a neat pile, oddly compact considering his size, and leaned against his own coils to wait.


	11. Home of the Spark

Sluggish.

That was the only way to describe the feeling, and Windswept was beginning to dislike it in the extreme. Why he couldn't pin down at the moment as his systems booted slowly, running their start-up checks and cross references. Error messages began appearing, warning of damage and the operation of his self repair systems. The error messages were confusing.

The first wave of panic hit even before the memories started to surface. Memories of dark nothingness and booting the same way, to find himself surrounded by strangers. Strangers who had captured him to use against his mate as bait. Strangers who had-

Panic initiated an emergency start-up, the blue mech struggling before his optics even came online.

~Windswept!~ a voice cried out across a hardline. ~It's Drift. You're safe.~

~Not safe.~ Windswept answered, though he ceased to struggle as both field and the hardline connection confirmed that it was his mate. Trembling replaced the need to fight as more memories came to the surface, memories of pain and the taunting. ~Want you. Sorry. They...~

Confusion as sharp images blurred and jumbled, the blue mech curling up defensively as nothing made sense.

~I know,~ Drift murmured. ~I know. We are safe. You've been in stasis for a while.~

~Stasis?~ Windswept repeated, optics coming online to the very familiar interior of the Wing's Spark before stopping to rest on a very real and healthy Drift. The blue mech reached out hesitantly, field brushing against Drift's in confusion.

The last clear memory he had was of losing himself in the feeling of Drift, because before that-

Another shudder ran through his frame, and Windswept curled up, whimpering.

~I had your major damage repaired and you've been in stasis for eight metacycles. We're nearing New Crystal City. We'll be safe while you recover.~

Guilt flooded Windswept, overriding even his personal pain. ~Sorry. So sorry...~

~Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for,~ Drift insisted as firmly as he'd ever been with Windswept. ~I need you to focus for a few joors. I expect they'll welcome me back, but if not, you must be ready to get to the ship and _away_. Go back to Cybertron, to Iacon. Go to Ratchet. Tell him what happened. There are enough supplies on board for the trip.~

Disbelieving blue optics met his, Windswept very focused on one thing at the moment. ~You want me to leave you.~

~I want you to _live_ ,~ he corrected. ~If they take offense, I'm dead. The best I'll ever manage against a Knight is to give you a klik or two to escape.~

Thoughts tumbled through Windswept's still confused processor, though none of them were voiced to Drift. He forgot that on a hardline, Drift could hear them anyway. Windswept wasn't sure he wanted to live without Drift. His main purpose in functioning would be gone. If-

Refusing to look at Drift the blue mech sat up and slid carefully to the edge of the berth, hesitating.

A strong black hand tipped his face up so Drift could kiss him, gently and chastely. ~I don't think it will happen. I want you prepared if it does. You don't need to extinguish with me. I don't _want_ you to.~

Windswept leaned against him, seeking the feeling of safety that had always come with being held. ~If you think there is even a chance, why are you going?~

A low rumble of dark humor echoed first. ~I always think there's a chance of things going bad. It's been the constant in my existence. Better to be ready than surprised.~

He didn't understand. He would do it, because Drift wanted it, but he didn't understand. Instead of thinking he simply clung to Drift, selfishly taking a moment to feel the familiar field blended with his own and the frame he was intimately familiar with warm against his own.

It was some defense against everything else he didn't want to face, couldn't face, in the moment.

Drift clung to him just as tightly, wrapping arms and field around his mate as he struggled to calm himself fully. ~They can help you better than any other.~

Confusion and fear slowly gave way to deep trust, the underlying belief Windswept had never lost that as long as he was with Drift everything would be all right.

Acceptance, and with it the forceful locking away of things that threatened to overwhelm him in favor of the now.

~How long?~

"We're within hailing distance now. Three joors to the gravity well," Drift said as he disengaged the hard line. "In four, it'll be settled, one way or another."

Windswept nodded, getting to his pedes and swaying a little until he found his balance. He leaned into Drift's support longer than strictly required, but the white mech didn't mind. It wasn't long before they were headed to the small bridge to find out if they would even get to land.

* * *

"He's coming! He's finally coming!" the white jet was vibrating with excitement as he bounced around like a youngling after too many rich confections. The other Knights around looked at him in amusement, but his creators remembered all too well how volatile the mech in question was. This time, their creation wouldn't be able to defeat him nearly so easily.

Two airframe Knights had been dispatched to guide the small ship in, once the pilot's identity had been confirmed. In the landing bay, a group of other mechs had gathered, arrayed behind two larger mechs, one blue, one black.

Dai Atlas shifted a wing slightly as he watched the ship come in to land. It had been a very long time since Drift had left them, and he wondered what had brought the white mech back now. Drift had said something about a passenger needing repairs on board the ship with him. Which made the Knight leader slightly antsy.

His creation was not part of the group awaiting Drift. Axe had managed to distract the jet somewhat, though Primus only knew how long it would be before he appeared.

The ship set down, its designation proudly etched on the side: Wing's Spark.

A murmur swept through the Knights as they noted the ship's designation. Dai Atlas lifted an optic rim, Axe letting out a soft hum. The two large mechs exchanged a quick glance, turning their attention to the ship's main hatch as it opened.

Drift, slightly modified after multiple alt-mode changes, was still very recognizable to all who'd known him during his short stay with them. The smaller blue mech behind him was new though.

Both looked to be strung on the very edge of snapping, though in completely different ways.

Dai Atlas frowned minutely as he took in the pair, noting how wrung out they were. Red optics flicked to the side, briefly meeting blue, and silent communion flashed between them. They would try to keep Wing distracted for long enough for Drift's obviously strained nerves to settle. Then the blue mech took a single step forward, noting the flinch from the smaller mech with Drift. 

"Welcome back to New Crystal City."

"Thank you," A noticeable amount of tension drained from Drift, though he was still just short of snapping. "This is Windswept."

Keeping his expression neutral despite the information that designation contained, Dai Atlas inclined his head slightly, looking at the smaller blue mech. "Welcome, Windswept."

The sound of his voice had the small mech flinching again, sliding more out of sight behind Drift and as close as he could be to the white mech without possibly interfering with his range of motion.

Axe shifted slightly, hearing something behind the group of Knights. He knew that sound. His distraction keeping his creation at bay had just failed.

Drift half turned and reached back to reassure his mate that things would be fine when there was a sudden skittering of pedes on floor as someone skidded around a corner, trying not to lose speed. A white form catapulted into view, running right toward them. After a moment the white blur resolved into a jet-mech, white with red trim and flashing, bright gold optics glowing, slender wings spread and fluttering in excitement. The hilt of a Great Sword showed over his helm.

Axe groaned, looking at his mate before Dai Atlas took a precautionary step towards Drift, who was now paying close attention to the action. Recognition didn't show in Drift's frame yet, though likely because of how impossible the thought was.

It left Axe to try and intercept their excitable creation before he did something more dangerous than usual.

The big black triple changer did a very quick sidestep, knowing that Wing only had optics for Drift. A couple of the other Knights yelped in surprise as the white jet darted past them, Wing's mouth opening to call out.

"Drift!"

One quick pounce later, Axe had the smaller jet by the scruff of the neck, using that grip to pull Wing off-balance and pin him against Axe's chest.

Dai Atlas registered that from the corner of one optic. All his attention was on Drift.

All of Drift's attention was on the young Knight, his expression a collage of confusion and quickly mounting fury that had no grounding in sanity, much less any reality outside Drift's processors and spark. On his back, Too Pure For This World began to glow brightly, wrapping tendrils around Drift's frame as he lifted a hand to draw it with intent to kill at the cost of his own spark.

The small blue mech had bolted the moment Drift had moved forward, distress radiating from him as he made for the safety of the ship he had arrived on, stumbling once as he dared to look back.

Dai Atlas let out an alarmed sound, to which the other Knights responded. Proving that his size did not mean he was slow, the Knight leader sprang forward, pouncing on the white mech before Drift could snap. Even if Drift had braced for the impact it wouldn't have mattered; Dai Atlas was nearly three times his height and considerably heavier. The white mech went down under a mass of blue metal, Dai Atlas's hand closing on Too Pure For This World's hilt and pulling away from its wielder. A moment later, the other Knights were piling on.

Two of the other Knights broke off from the mech pile, moving to intercept Windswept while one who'd been in the back of the gathering grabbed Too Pure For This World and retreated a safe distance from the scuffle.

Strong hands grabbed Windswept, but all he could hear was Drift howls of rage as he struggled to get away from the larger, stronger and far more skilled mecha.

Dai Atlas carefully extricated himself from the pile, looking at the chaos the landing dock had become. Axe was keeping well out of the way, both arms wrapped around the trembling Wing, who was staring in disbelief. Two Knights were restraining Windswept, while the others were piled on top of the struggling Drift.

The blue Knight ground his dental plates hard enough to produce sparks before roaring. "ENOUGH!"

Even the seasoned Knights froze at that. It was not often that Dai Atlas _roared_ like that, but when he did _everybody_ listened. Even Drift had to pause, if only for the barest of moments, at that roar. He recovered faster than most, however, and succeeded in freeing himself from the still-stunned Knights on top of him and rushed forward, right for Wing.

Axe _growled_. Everyone close to the black Knight immediately scuttled backward. The black triple changer was normally one of the more laid-back, easygoing mechs, a perfect match to Dai Atlas's stern demeanor. When he growled, _everyone_ got out of the way and hoped it wasn't them he was growling at. 

The black Knight took a pointed step back, holding Wing closer, his glare boding ill for Drift if he made one wrong move.

Some tiny bit of self-preservation that Drift still had stilled him before he drew his short swords. His optics locked with Axe's before everything crashed down on him and all the fight left him with a single, whispered word. "Why?"

The white jet in Axe's arms whimpered in confusion, staring at Drift with wide, hurt optics. Gold-trimmed black arms tightened around him as the bigger mech stared down at Drift.

"Do you really think we would try to trick you this way?" Axe asked in a clipped, ice-edged voice. "What reason could we possibly have for that? We were just as shocked when Wing returned. How he has returned, is a long story, and one that can wait until _you_ calm down." Cold blue optics bored into Drift's. "Here's another question for you to consider. Do you really think that any fake copy of Wing would be able to fool _us_? His own creators?"

That said, the black mech lifted Wing into his arms, presented his back to Drift, and stormed out of the landing bay.

Drift stood stock still, confusion radiating from him before he locked his emotions down, whirled on one pede and stalked towards Windswept, completely ignoring the Great Sword still in the possession of a Knight nearby.

A large white hand clamped down on Drift's shoulder. "And where do you think you are going?" Dai Atlas frowned down at the white mech, red optics glinting.

"Away," Drift responded, his voice nearly toneless and his field pulled so tightly in that even touching his plating it couldn't be felt as more than a muted tingle. "I shouldn't have come."

The blue mech had given up the struggle and now simply hung trembling between his captors, the whine of distressed systems the loudest sound issuing from him.

"You're not leaving yet." The Knight leader's tone brooked no argument. "There are explanations due on both sides. And Wing has been anticipating your arrival for quite some time, since he felt the Great Sword begin to approach."

Drift fell silent as he grappled with the changes to the designation, but right at the moment he didn't have the fight in him to resist. "Windswept needs medical care," he said instead, trusting that the ancient mech would understand his lack of resistance as compliance. "More than can be done in war."

Red optics turned to the medic lurking nearby. The other mech nodded, then directed the two Knights holding Windswept to take him to the medical bay only to have Drift step in the way.

"I'll take him. He's dealt with strange mechs too much already," Drift said firmly, reaching out to gather Windswept to him when he was released without question.

Dai Atlas nodded and herded them towards the medbay, followed by the Knight holding Drift's Great Sword.

"You need repairs as well," the blue Knight noted, looking Drift over.

"I'll live," Drift said, more on reflex than a true refusal.

"You're going to get repairs whether you like it or not," the medic informed Drift tartly. "It'll get you to hold still while Dai Atlas explains how Wing returned."

Drift grunted his acceptance, but it was easy to tell that most of his focus was once more on the blue mech in his arms.

No longer on the edge of panic now that he was back with Drift, Windswept leaned into the white mech. Fear still crackled in his field, wary optics taking in everything and repeatedly returning to the form of the large tripe changer.

"Dai Atlas, leader of the Knights and Circle of Light," Drift supplied. "Living legend to every mecha who follows the warrior elite."

"And he's one of Wing's creators," another Knight added, causing Drift to stumbled and stare up in shock.

Dai Atlas's red optics returned Windswept's look, his own expression neutral. Now that the chaos was over, the blue mech's wings had settled back into their hold position and he no longer looked like he was about to bite someone's head off.

A tiny smile quirked one corner of the Knight's mouth. "As Axe, who happens to be Wing's other creator, said, no fake or copy of Wing would be able to fool us. He is the real Wing."

Windswept nudged softly at Drift's helm, starting to _think_ again as his panic eased. ::Your Wing?::

::I ... I don't know,:: Drift admitted, still shaken. "He'll want his sword back then," he said quietly, never having thought of himself as more than its caretaker; a reminder of all that a mecha _could_ be, even if it was far beyond his ability.

"Wing is already bonded to a new Great Sword," Dai Atlas told him. "As previously stated, it is a long story."

Hope slipped into Windswept's field, hope for Drift's sake as he settled against the larger mech. Focusing on Drift was so much easier than everything else he was facing, and this was something he could offer.

For Drift's sake, he hoped that this mech would be able to heal the place in Drift that he had never been able to touch.

"Did he ever say _why_ he's here?" Drift asked, leaning into Windswept's support.

"Because his reborn spark remembered, and he chose to return," was Dai Atlas's response. "He was reborn in a sparkling frame, a sparkling raised to adolescence by the Autobot team known as the Aerialbots. His memory began returning early."

"I'm surprised his Great Sword didn't demand to be returned to him before he bonded to a new one," Drift murmured to no one but himself. "It's not like I bonded to it."

"Actually you did," Dai Atlas corrected calmly. "When you wielded it on the battlefield after Wing fell, it bonded to you."

"It is your Great Sword now," another Knight confirmed.

In his arms Windswept twitched, then a whisper of smug pride slipped into field and pushed at Drift.

It was enough to distract Drift and focus him. ::What's so funny?::

::It has been yours, all this time.:: When Drift had denied it, said he was only a keeper and not worthy of it, it had been his. Windswept found irony the truth of what he had believed the whole time.

Dai Atlas watched the pair for a moment, curious. There was clearly a story behind Windswept. They weren't a normal pair, especially not from what he knew of Drift.

Drift suddenly jerked, almost coming out of a reverie of sorts. " _It_ was changing me," he hissed, half in wonder, half in anger.

"Great Swords have that effect on their bearers," Dai Atlas confirmed.

"Always figured it was Wing," Drift shook his head. "Making me more like him."

::You're angry at the idea.:: Observation and question as the medical bay finally came into view, the medic picking up his pace to set in motion all of the needed arrangements before his visitors ever reached his domain.

::I never agreed to have my spark and core code altered,:: he grumbled. ::Never agreed to bond with the sword either. Just one more thing forced on me.::

Dai Atlas herded the group into the medical bay, taking a moment to ping his mate and ask how Wing was doing. Axe responded that the white jet was very upset and still clinging to him, trying to wrap his processor around Drift's reaction. The blue mech made a humming sound low in his throat.

The Knight carrying Drift's Sword trailed the large blue triple changer, staying back, waiting for any sign that it was safe to return the blade to its bearer and slightly unsettled by how little Drift seemed to want it back. Every other Knight that Marwir knew wouldn't be able to take their optics off their Great Sword while another had it. It wasn't right.

::Would you have wished it some other way?:: The question was about the sword, but held deeper meaning as well. Without the sword Windswept was aware that there was a good chance he would never have been, because the Drift that he had been created for would never have existed.

::Of course,:: Drift actually growled, a deep rumble of his engine and roar of hatred towards the universe as a whole in his field before he managed to mute it. ::I _wish_ I'd come to be this on my own, not because someone decided I was broken. I may not have been a good mech, but it was me.::

The blue mech in his arms trembled for a moment at the expression of temper, even knowing that it wasn't directed purely at him. Still, he leaned into Drift. ::Not broken. It couldn't make you into what you were not. It just brought it out.::

::If only that was true,:: Drift's rage cooled, bleeding into a spark-deep pain that was just as quickly hidden. ::I hope you never learn how wrong you are.::

A feeling of gentle conviction was offered in answer, and with it belief in Drift. ::I think if you liked how you were it wouldn't have worked so well.::

A soft sigh escaped Drift's vents. ::I like what I'm becoming. I don't like the _how_ of it.::

There were no other patients in the medical bay at the moment, but there were several medics and medical assistants around, talking in soft voices while they cleaned equipment and made sure the medical bay was mostly free of contaminants. Heads came up to take in the arriving group, eyeing Drift and Windswept with visible curiosity.

The new arrivals were herded to a med berth, where the medic indicated for Drift to place Windswept. Dai Atlas leaned against the wall nearby, watching everything. His red gaze rested on Drift and Windswept, one long wing twitching slightly. The somewhat thoughtful expression was a bit of a hint that he had been listening in.

Drift was too focused on Windswept, then the medic to notice Dai Atlas's stance and look. His voice was hushed but determined, as was his stance. "Send them out. Just you stay."

Windswept was visibly reluctant to be parted from Drift, even if just by half arm span. He finally gave in and settled on the berth, though his entire frame was full of tension and fear.

The medic gave Drift a long look, then looked at the other medic and assistants. He didn't even have to say anything. The others took the hint, filing out.

Dai Atlas gave the medic a look that clearly meant he was not moving, planting his pedes and bulk in a way that clearly announced "not budging".

It earned a growl from Drift's engine, but no further attempt to eject the leader of the Knights when Dai Atlas extended his hand for Too Pure For This World and sent the remaining Knight away.

"He needs a _safe_ place to recover," Drift began, his manner becoming less abrasive and more uneasy as he began to speak. "Mercs captured him ... used him every way I know of."

Both Dai Atlas and Redline, the medic, stiffened at that. Two pairs of optics flared. Dai Atlas let out a soft hiss while Redline reached for a scanner even as Drift reached to pull Windswept close again without dislodging him from the berth.

The blue mech leaned against him willingly, the reassurance enough that Windswept didn't flinch away at the medic's approach or the scanner aimed his way. There was no visible reaction to the fact that he was the current topic of discussion.

"I can see why you chose to bring him here," Dai Atlas rumbled from where he watched. "This is the safest place for him."

"He is going to need a lot of time to heal," Redline added. "Even after the physical repairs. Trauma like that takes a very long time to come to terms with." He eyed the scan results. "Whoever did the initial repairs was very good."

Drift relaxed significantly at hearing that. "I knew it was better than I could do. Good to know he was as good as he said he was. Windswept's been in medical stasis since he went under for repairs until four joors before we landed."

Redline continued to examine the scan results. "There is still internal damage that must be repaired, the sooner the better. Before the stress that Windswept is under causes something to give way." Gold optics lifted from the datapad to Drift. "I will have to put him under sedation to repair this damage."

Drift nodded his acceptance and coaxed Windswept to lay down with a gentle field and hands that had never given anything but pleasure and comfort to the blue mech.

Dai Atlas's wings shifted, brushing the wall he was leaning against. "Windswept will have all the time needed. We have already accepted your presences here; we will not turn you away. All I ask is that you not try to attack Wing again." Sharp red optics fixed on Drift, giving him the "protective and territorial creator" glare as Windswept was sent back into stasis. "Speaking of which, I would like an explanation as to _why_ you tried to attack him."

"I am ... sorry," Drift didn't quite meet Dai Atlas' optics and his manner promised the compliance of a properly chastised junior. "I...." his voice trailed off as he tried to translate that chaotic moment in his processors into words. With a faint shudder he settled on the emotion that had dominated it all. "Betrayal. I saw ... perhaps everything I'm afraid of."

"Afraid of?" Dai Atlas echoed, his tone asking for clarification. 

Hesitant, trying to work an explanation for something he typically avoided thinking about, Drift finally spoke.

"That there isn't an end, that Primus is real and all that," he murmured, his optics focused on Windswept to keep from thinking too hard about what he was saying and to whom. "That Wing won't like what he finds now. That I've been claiming a living mecha all this time and he never knew."

Red optics narrowed briefly. "There is no way you could have known that Wing had returned. Axe and myself haven't known that long, ourselves. Wing came back to us as a mid-age youngling. He had to be trained again, though he remembered some things. As for the rest... You would have to talk to him yourself." Dai Atlas' optics flared. "Think you can refrain from attacking him again?"

"Yes," Drift managed to make his voice hold firm as he looked up to meet Dai Atlas' gaze. "Shock broke my control. It won't happen again."

Dai Atlas gave Drift a long look, clearly weighing if he wanted to let his precious returned creation near this high-strung grounder or not. Then red optics went out of focus as Dai Atlas reached out to Axe, who was still with Wing.

A breem later, the medical bay doors opened, revealing a wall of black metal. Axe was doing some fairly impressive looming, blue gaze sweeping the room to fix on Dai Atlas and Drift. Wing was tucked into the triple changer's side, clinging to black armor much as he had when he had been a youngling. 

After a moment Axe finally walked over to the group, giving Drift a wary look before gently placing Wing on his pedes. The white jet murmured something to the black Knight, who responded in a soft, deep rumble. Dai Atlas and Axe locked gazes for a moment, giving the distinct impression that they were communicating, before Axe backed off. 

Wing turned to face Drift, sidling a bit closer to Dai Atlas, just in case.

One hand still on Windswept, even though the mech was in medical stasis, Drift met Wing's golden optics. "I'm sorry, Wing." He spent a little extra time on the designation, gathering everything he could from it. He might not have Windswept's understanding of reading designations, but he knew more than the average soldier, or even the average officer.

The white jet's shoulder pinions drooped. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have run in and startled you like that. My creators warned me to stay away, but I couldn't... It's been so long since I last saw you."

"Have they told you my current designation?" Drift asked softly.

Wing looked a bit embarrassed. "I think Axe did... But I admit I was too upset to really pay much attention."

"Drift," he enunciated carefully, going more slowly and completely than normal to give the much younger mecha a chance to catch all the important bits ... like his own designation and what it was marked as.

This time Wing and Dai Atlas were listening, considering the designation. Dai Atlas's optics flashed in surprise, and Axe, who had retreated to lurk near the door, blinked. Wing's pinions stood straight up in surprise, his wings flaring out.

"Bonded..." the jet murmured. "And mated..." Golden optics moved to the blue mech on the berth, Wing moving a few steps closer.

Drift dropped his gaze. "He brings out the best in me, the same way Wing did. I never asked to change my designation, to include ... you ... like that. I didn't think there was anyone to care if I marked how important those vorns were."

Wing moved closer, resting a careful hand on Drift's arm. "And you were important to me, too." He smiled slightly. "I remember everything... From coming online here in the city for the first time, driving my creators crazy, meeting you... And I remember my death." He flinched a bit at that. "And it's an honor to be included in your designation that way."

He felt the surprise flicker in Drift before that was quashed in favor of confusion, which settled into the brand of emotional numbness that was unique to warriors. It was simply too much to deal with, so Drift's CPU shunted the affected emotional protocol output into a buffer to be deleted.

Without the distraction, Drift actually leaned into contact, his filed reaching out cautiously to caress Wing's, seeking to reestablish the contact he hadn't felt in so long.

Wing extended his field, meshing it with Drift's. It expressed his joy at seeing Drift again, the hurt and confusion at having Drift try to attack him, and guilt for knowing it had been his fault. He wanted to be close to Drift, but was wary of startling him again.

"You won't," Drift promised, hesitantly extending his free hand to draw Wing closer and tucked himself against the slightly larger but lighter white jet. "I'm over the reactionary shock."

Dai Atlas gave Drift a long, narrow-opticked look, but said nothing, and didn't move other than a twitch of long wings, the vanes at the tips flaring and snapping closed again. Wing ignored the bigger mech, wrapping his arms around Drift, burying his face in the white grounder's shoulder as they took each other in silently through their fields.

Memories equally old but with very different connotations demanded attention, and despite all his emotional shunts, it was Drift that began to tremble first. "Can't take losing you again," he whispered, barely loud enough for Wing to hear.

Wing's arms tightened, pulling Drift tightly against his frame. "Not going anywhere," he murmured in reply, a promise he meant with all his spark. "Not going to leave you. Not going to leave him." Golden optics flicked to the blue mech on the berth. Then he snorted softly. "As if _they_ would let me go anywhere..." White wings flicked at the two elder Knights, both of whom were watching like turbohawks. "Can't even go flying without an escort."

Drift actually chuckled. Weakly, but he found humor in it as he shifted his helm slightly to kiss Wing's collar. "Can't blame them."

"Doesn't make it any less aggravating," Wing muttered, then all but melted into the kiss. "Ooh..."

A shiver passed through Drift's frame as arousal suddenly exploded across his systems, flooded his field with desire. His lip plates parted in a low moan before he kissed his way upwards, pausing to slide his glossa between two sensitive neck cables.

Wing let out a soft gasp, then echoed Drift's low moan. His hands trailed over Drift's back, tracing the contours of armor that were different from what he remembered, exploring the new shapes. Tilting his helm, he gently nuzzled Drift's cheek, chirring softly until his mouth was captured in a kiss that began chaste but Drift quickly sought to deepen as his glossa brushed across Wing's lip plates.

Redline, elbow-deep in Windswept's chassis, cycled his vocalizer loudly, making Wing jump in surprise. Wide gold optics turned to meet the medic's.

The medic glowered at the two. "Please save the intimate reunion for when you're _out_ of field range. Windswept may be in stasis, but he is still picking up your energy fields, and it is only creating more stress. He is agitated enough already."

Wing seemed to shrink into himself slightly, murmuring an apology, but it was Drift's stricken expression that made the elder Knights take note. That was not the Drift they remembered.

Redline was privately pleased that it had not only cooled their actions, but completely killed the arousal in Drift's field.

Dai Atlas's wings twitched again as he contemplated Drift. Across the medbay, Axe hummed to himself, blue optics narrow as he gazed at the white grounder.

Wing managed to slip himself under Drift's arm, nestling into his side, golden optics regarding Windswept. Finally, he looked at Drift, tilting his helm. "Tell me about him," the jet requested softly.

His attention once more focused on Windswept, Drift caressed the blue shoulder. "I saved a noble's life a few vorns ago. Against all sanity, he commissioned Windswept to be a 'perfect servant' for me. Whoever did the programming did a good job too," he sighed and leaned into the embrace. "Much as I didn't want to have a slave, I couldn't have him thrown away."

Redline had clearly been listening in, as parts of his armor bristled visibly at that. The medic's gold optics flicked in Drift's direction. From off to one side, Dai Atlas let out a deep rumble, optics narrowing.

"I guess I am rubbing off on you," Wing commented, tilting his helm. "He's incorporated into your designation as your mate..."

"It took too long to schedule it, but I did get Ratchet to clean up his code," Drift nodded, largely oblivious to the reactions around him. "I kept reminding him he was free to move on if he wanted it, but it wasn't long before it was obvious it wasn't the code that kept him with me. Maybe that first vorn or two, but not by the time I was ready to admit I _cared_ about him. I think he melted when I made the change," he chuckled softly. "He's never lost the extreme submissive side though."

Slowly, Redline's armor settled as he took that information in. Just to be sure, he made a note to run a scan of his own before letting Windswept go. Turning his attention back to the damage he was repairing, he reached for another tool, carefully replacing some damaged circuitry.

Wing tilted his helm, regarding the blue mech thoughtfully. "He cares about you as much as you care about him. Windswept is going to be an interesting mech to get to know."

"I always said he'd like you," Drift murmured. "Never thought he'd get the chance to find out. He'll fit right in with the city," he leaned a little more against Wing. "Always learning too. Can't fight worth a darn though."

Wing chirred. "I get along with everyone," he pointed out. "And here, there's no reason for him to fight." The white jet hesitated for a moment. "And you here to stay?" he finally asked, looking up at Drift, his golden optics round and hopeful.

"For as long as you'll have me," Drift murmured.

Wing's smile was as bright as the overhead sun, almost too bright to look at. Throwing both arms around Drift, Wing clung, purring loudly, tucking his helm under Drift's chin. After a long moment, he turned that same round-opticked look on his creator, who was looking anywhere but at Wing. Clear evidence that not even he was immune to that look and was well aware of the fact.

"I had no intention of forcing them to leave," Dai Atlas finally gave in, letting out a resigned sigh. "I would never hear the end of it."

Drift chuckled and looked up at red optics with a knowing smirk. "Wing always gets his way."

"Tell me something I don't know," the blue triple changer sighed, his wings drooping almost perfectly vertical. "It's gotten worse since he returned to us... One of the Aerialbots who raised him from a sparkling taught him that look. And none of us have any defenses against it."

"Fireflight," Drift supplied, well aware of the Aerial's reputation among the Autobot elite. "No one does, not really."

Wing detached from Drift, darting over and jumping to give the startled Dai Atlas a hug, then let go and dropped off, re-adhering to Drift. Dai Atlas floundered for a moment before getting his balance back, ignoring the laughing from his own mate.

Still purring, Wing resettled against Drift's side, looking up at him out of contented optics. "Tell me about the things you've seen and the people you've encountered while you were roaming the universe?"

"Can't say there's been much worth sharing," Drift admitted. "Spent the entire time going from one kill-zone to another, only for the Autobots this time," he touched the bright red insignia emblazoned on the front of each spaulder. "Trying to forget, or at least fine some kind of peace in what I'm good at."

Dai Atlas' only response was to mutter something under his breath, resettling against the wall. Axe came over to join him, leaning against a blue-armored shoulder. The black triple changer was clearly more relaxed than he had been.

Wing blinked at Drift. "Surely you must have met someone or seen something worth mentioning, that didn't involve killing."

"Probably, but I wasn't paying much attention," he murmured. "Only good thing to come of it is right here," he nodded towards Windswept. "And giving your sword enough time to work on me," he added, numb enough not to feel his typical anger about it.

Wing blinked again, but didn't comment. Settling against Drift's side, he watched Redline working.

"You know, you might as well spend some time together. See the city, or your quarters. He won't be out of stasis for at least a couple orns," Redline said. "I'll comm you before I bring him out."

Drift tensed, uncertain. He _wanted_ to go. "I promised I'd be here for him."

Redline carefully withdrew his hands from Windswept's chassis, stretching to relieve a kink in his back. "I will let you know when he is waking up. You can be here when he awakens. But there's no point in staying here the whole time." Gold optics narrowed at Wing. "I doubt he will be able to wait that long."

Wing turned that wide-opticked gaze on Drift, tugging lightly at his hand.

"You said he could tell what's going on, my field," Drift resisted for the moment, even though everyone could see that it was a losing battle.

"Not consciously, but his systems were registering it," Redline corrected. "And all that arousal in it was making him even more agitated and stressed. I am fully aware of how hard Wing is to resist. Shoo." The medic reached for another tool. "And for Primus's sake, take your Sword back! Your lack of concern for it is making the Knights very confused."

Drift's helm snapped towards the weapon as every cable in his frame snapped to full tension, the anger he felt at being changed, at bonding without choice, roared to the surface before being smashed down with a ruthlessness brought on by the need to protect Windswept. "Please excuse the _issues_ we're having right now," he did his best to keep his sarcasm in check with limited success. "I wasn't aware it was mine _that_ way."

Redline paused, eying Drift. Wing actually flinched away, optics going wide. The two elder Knights stiffened, optics narrowing, Dai Atlas's hand tightening on Too Pure For This World's hilt.

"If you object so strongly, I will hold onto the Sword until such time as you choose to reclaim it," Dai Atlas rumbled.

Drift nodded, his systems relaxing. Despite the displeasure being directed at him, it was one very significant issue he no longer had to deal with. "I hope you find a suitable bearer for it," he said quietly, honestly meaning it.

"It's bonded to you," Dai Atlas pointed out. "It won't accept a new bearer while that bond exists." 

"What breaks the bond?" Drift asked evenly. "Not sure if anything clued you in, but I never knew I agreed to bond with it. I took it as a keepsake, a reminder of what a mecha _could_ be."

"As far as I know, death," Dai Atlas responded. "Never has anyone ever willingly tried to break the bond. And Wing would object very strongly to that particular course of action."

The white jet's pinions stood on end and his wings flared out in alarm at the thought.

"He wouldn't be the only one," Drift seemed to deflate as he took one step towards the door and paused. "Titanium asked me to tell you hi if I saw you again."

Red optics flared in surprise at the name. "Titanium? He still functions?"

"He did when we crossed paths a few vorns ago," Drift nodded. "Bonded to GoldenRod."

Wing blinked at his creator. "Someone you know?"

"Another swordsmech. I knew him long ago."

Axe shifted. "This the same Titanium who shot you in the aft that one time?"

Wing snickered, then went after Drift. His mood went somber quickly as he caught up with the grounder and the field that was in such turmoil.

"Relax, I won't suicide just to be rid of the bond," Drift told him quietly.

Wing adhered to white armor, wrapping one arm tightly around Drift's frame. "That's good," he murmured. "I don't want to lose you, either." He tugged on Drift's arm. "Now, we have a lot of missed time to catch up on."

"As if _talking_ is what we're likely to do," Drift chuckled knowingly. "Your quarters or my ship?"

Golden optics glowed bright with mischief. "Which of the two is more soundproof?"

"Ship, I expect," Drift reached back to catch Wing's fingers in his own. "So your quarters?"

Wing grinned. "My quarters. And hopefully certain large busybodies will know enough to keep out." He glanced back over his shoulder to make certain his creators weren't following.

"I'm sure we can traumatize them enough if they don't so they won't try a second time," Drift gave him a wicked grin and stepped close, mingling their fields and putting his desire on open display to Wing. "Tell me what you want."

Wing grinned evilly. "Might take some traumatizing, knowing what those to get up to behind closed doors..." He purred deeply, snuggling closer, spreading one wing against Drift's back. "I want you to touch me... I want to touch you, want to find all your sweet spots, want to feel you inside me," he purred in the older mech's audial and grinned at the shiver that passed through Drift's frame.

"I'm going to make you scream until your vocalizer shorts out," Drift promised, his engine rumbling deep and hot. "You'll overload until you can't remember your designation."

Wing's nacelles revved, matching Drift's engine as they made their way to the tower that was home to the younger full Knights. "I like the sound of that."

"And when neither of us can move, we'll recharge together until something demands our attention," Drift promised.

Wing's field thrummed with anticipation, pulsing eagerly against Drift's. "I like the sound of that, too."

They were quiet for the remainder of the walk to the upper level quarters, complete with wide balcony suited for a flier. 

Drift glanced around, taking in the many similarities and the differences. "Still into riding a spike and holding it all in until physics wins out?"

Slender wings fluttered with anticipation. "Only with you," was the purred response.

"Then ... perhaps we start there, once you can get me on my back," Drift suggested as his hands went for wing joints the moment the door closed behind them. "We do have so much to try."

Wing's response was a low laugh. "Let the fun begin." He leaned into the touches on his wings, his own black hands reaching out to stroke over the unfamiliar lines of Drift's armor, different from what it had been the last time he had seen Drift. Something in the way Drift responded, or rather didn't respond, demanded his attention.

Wing frowned, running his fingers along the length of what should have been a sensitive piece of armor and narrowing his optics at the lack of response. Gold optics met blue. "Did you turn your sensor net off? I know Redline installed a full sensor net when he rebuilt you."

A startled sound and Drift blinked at him. "Yeah," he mumbled before digging around long unused protocols to turn the datastreem back on.

The jet watched for a moment, then stroked the plate again, letting out a satisfied trill this time when Drift arched against Wing's chassis. "Much better." Leaning forward, he nipped lightly at a seam on Drift's spaulder, optics sparkling when black hands lost all track of what they'd been doing and Drift went nearly pliant in his arms.

Encouraged by the response, Wing licked along the seam, his own black hands stroking over Drift's body, slowly exploring the contours of his armor while backing Drift toward the berth, hoping to get there before the white grounder's legs collapsed. This was going to be a very fun and very enjoyable evening.

With pleasure he had long ago forgotten even existed, Drift had to focus almost completely on clinging to Wing just to remain upright. Gasps and moans escaped his trembling frame, already crackling with energy.

Purring, the jet gently settled Drift onto the berth, climbing up after him, and began exploring Drift's body with hands, lips, and glossa. Inch by inch he worked his way down the other white mech's frame, making careful note of the most sensitive spots, the seams that drew out the most delicious sounds. Bright optics watched Drift's responses, his purr never ceasing.

It was so enchanting to have Drift this pliant under him. While Drift continued to touch, there was no coordination to the actions and no effort to change that. He moaned and pressed into the touches happily, willing to submit without a fuss to whatever Wing hand in mind.

Wing seemed determined to make Drift overload by touch alone. He was lavishing attention on every inch of white plating, sneaking slim black fingers into every seam he came across, licking and nipping at the edges of armor plates. His vents were pushing warm air over Drift's plating, a caress in itself.

He hadn't even reached Drift's hips when he heard the distinctive sound of an interface cover sliding open, then the soft hiss of Drift's spike pressurizing tall and proud and oh so tempting. Wing forced himself to ignore the temptation; there would be plenty of time to indulge in that piece of equipment soon enough.

Black hands worked their way across Drift's midsection, over the black plating of his waist, flirting with the edges of his white hip. The jet nipped delicately at Drift's chestplates, his wings fluttering happily as Drift trembled and moaned. Their interlaced fields crackled with energy and pleasure, but most intoxicating for Wing was the absolute submission-desire in that field and the way Drift arched and pressed into every touch.

One of Wing's hands stroked down the length of Drift's thigh, his fingertips running along the length of a seam before slowly working into the hip joint, teasing the circuits and gyros. Chirring, golden optics bright, Wing licked along the side of the white grounder's chest, aiming for a spot he remembered as being particularly sensitive.

Drift keened static as his lands leapt to Wing's nacelles, the fingers spasming as he sought to ground himself with his lover.

Turning his helm, Wing nipped teasingly at Drift's hands, catching hold of one black digit and swiping his glossa over the pad of Drift's finger. Wing's own hands continued to explore Drift's hips and thighs, deliberately avoiding his spike. There would be time enough for that later.

With a shuddering moan Drift went lax again, only to press into the touches as his charge built to intolerable levels. So close. He was so close.

One slim hand wandered down Drift's thigh to slide under the armor of his knee, teasing the underside of the knee projection, dipping into the joint itself. Letting go of Drift's finger, Wing turned his attention to the white palm, trailing his lips across it, probing the seams and joints with the tip of his glossa. His nacelles revved, vibrating against Drift's other hand and leg.

That was all it took. With a scream that held nothing back Drift's frame arched off the berth as his processors whited out from the overload energy and bliss.

Trilling happily, Wing watched with bright optics, his frame shivering as arcs of current jumped from Drift's plating to his. Slender wings flared out, just brushing Drift's knee. The white jet's body language indicated that he was very pleased with himself at having gotten Drift to overload just by touch. It wasn't normally an easy thing.

Panting, vents wide open and fans whirring, Drift's optics powered up dimly but there was no real coherency behind them, just the pleasure-dazed contentment of coming down from an intense overload.

Wing draped himself over Drift's leg, watching the other white mech, his trill fading into a purr. The fingers of one hand were idly stroking along Drift's knee armor. After a long moment, golden optics dropped to examine the exposed length of Drift's still-pressurized spike.

"Please," Drift moaned, unable to articulate any more.

Wing's laugh was a clear, soft sound as the white jet slithered gracefully down Drift's body, regarding the exposed spike hungrily. Golden optics flicked to Drift's face briefly before Wing ducked down, running his glossa up the length of the spike, base to tip.

The way Drift's entire frame arched off the berth with a sharp cry was as intensely sweet to Wing as the physical pleasure was to Drift.

Gently, Wing pinned Drift's hips down with his hands, still purring as he lapped at Drift's spike, his glossa tracing every inch before taking the very tip in his mouth. His fingers slid slowly into the seams of Drift's hips, exploring what lay underneath as his lover keened and squirmed and tried to thrust up. Their intermeshed fields were blazingly hot, feeding arousal and pleasure both ways.

It very much reminded Wing of his first time, only now he was giving that gift to the other half of his spark.

Teasingly slowly, wing took Drift's spike into his mouth, as deeply as he could manage. His purr vibrated through the sensitive equipment, stimulating the sensors. Very lightly scraping his dental plates against Drift's spike, Wing slowly drew back, then slid back down to take the whole length.

Drift's optics went dark, his hands grabbed at the berth under him as he moaned, his entire awareness focused on the familiar pleasure of his spike mixed with the entirely unfamiliar sensations of pleasure from the rest of his frame.

Black fingers stroked and kneaded Drift's hips and waist while the jet's mouth busily worked Drift's spike, optics dimming as he concentrated on what he was doing. His nacelles revved higher, sending more vibrations through both of them.

A black hand found Wing's helm and pressed down as Drift's hips thrust up strongly. Wing tilted his helm slightly into the touch, taking as much of Drift's spike as he possibly could. His glossa slid along the underside, the tip teasing the nodes as he scraped his upper dental plate lightly over another sensor, all the while working his fingers deeper into the sensitive joints.

A deep, guttural groan escaped Drift with his next thrust, then his entire frame tightened with the explosion of energy that came with the first burst of transfluid.

Determined not to let any escape, Wing swallowed, his purr rising in volume. His body vibrated from the shared pleasure, though the jet himself had yet to overload. He was thoroughly enjoying watching Drift, enjoying driving the white grounder wild. He continued to suck, lick and swallow until Drift had gone completely limp, his hand falling away.

Reluctantly letting go, Wing slid back up Drift's body, sprawling across his torso, nuzzling at Drift's cheek. Warm golden optics met barely-focused blue and claimed the offered kiss.

"You haven't," Drift managed to mumble, his field offering whatever the jet wanted.

"No," Wing freely admitted. "But enjoyed watching you." 

Mingling his field with Drift's, Wing began to gently nip and lick at the seams of Drift's chest armor, daringly coaxing the plates to open for him. As delighted as he was when the white armor unlocked, it did make him curious at what Drift had experienced ... whether it was Windswept that made him this agreeable.

Still slightly unfocused pale blue optics focused on him, willing but uncertain.

Wing chirred at him softly, his field expressing gentle coaxing and reassurance; he would rather lose a limb than hurt Drift. Lifting himself slightly, Wing unlocked his own chest armor, smiling encouragingly.

There was a moment of hesitation as Drift's optics cleared, then he opened his chest plates and offered his spark to the other half of itself. Still, there was no missing the tension, the not-quite fear that licked up from his field.

Complicated armor plates shifted out of the way, exposing Wing's own spark chamber. Golden-white light, almost matching the jet's optics, leaked out as the chamber opened. Slowly, carefully, Wing leaned down, bringing his spark close enough to Drift's for threads of energy to curl outward, reaching out to touch the white grounder's essence.

A low, trembling moan escaped Drift as pleasure flooded him without domination. At the caress that was blissful instead of painful. His spark responded, not from the pleasure but to the essence that loved him and that he loved. As unprepared as he was to bond, or even to merge deeply, 'bonded' was not overstating how important Wing was to him.

He would give the white jet anything he asked for.

Not wanting to overwhelm Drift, Wing slowly leaned closer, bringing his spark into tentative contact with Drift's. Threads of energy from both sparks entwined around each other as they began to merge, sending cascades of bliss through both mechs. Wing's slender wings splayed open, trembling from tip to base, the jet's arms quivering as he did his best to keep from collapsing onto his trembling lover.

For Drift, it was all he could do to keep from screaming a third overload and dropping offline. It felt so _good_ with Wing. So utterly different from every other merge he'd experienced. This was utter bliss on a level he couldn't even comprehend.

The jet over Drift let out a deep, soft moan, optics flickering before going dark. He'd never felt anything like this before. He could feel Drift, the restrained power and fierce spirit, and it was simply incredible. Despite everything the mech had been through, even the battering his spark had taken time and again in merges, Drift's spark was ... _gleeful_ as it welcomed Wing's.

~ _Mine_ ,~ came the hissed whisper, a word-sensation-demand that wasn't even a thought, but a direct comment by the spark itself.

~Yours, always,~ Wing responded, the reply riding a wave of pure love. Everything that was Wing wrapped around Drift; light and air and the sound of wind over sleek wings mingled at the edges with the dark solidity and wind over a low canopy with the flashes and explosions of gunfire and battle that was everything else that made Drift feel _alive_ and _free_.

Despite the fierceness of their differences, their histories, Drift opened his spark fully to the jet, offering everything, even when he didn't fully grasp what he was offering.

Letting out a soft cry, Wing surrendered to the sensation. He managed to retain enough working processor space to keep from unintentionally bonding; that was something he would wait for until Drift also wanted it and _knew_ what he was offering. Right now, he just wanted to bask in all that was Drift, even the pain and darkness that had consumed so much of Drift's existence.

Pure ecstasy washed back and forth between them, being amplified each time it reflected back, bringing them closer and closer to overload. Memories and knowledge of the other filtered through to be assimilated later, when processors had settled in to sort the backlog of data.

Drift trembled, moaned, then keened as the first spark-induced overload of his functioning exploded across his neutral net.

Drift's overload set off Wing's, the jet's body tensing over Drift's, his keen breaking into static. His wings flared out as far as they would go, trembling and trying to stretch out even farther. Then he collapsed over the white grounder, sliding limply off onto the berth next to him as they both off-lined. Chest plates closed automatically to protect the vulnerable sparks.

Both mecha were cool by the time Wing rebooted, all his systems humming in utter contentment and tightly in synch with the calm, soothing rhythm of Drift's.

It took a moment for Wing to get his optics to work properly, blinking to get them to focus. Noting that Drift was still offline, Wing let out a soft chirr, snuggling into his side and resting his helm against Drift's shoulder. He could get very used to booting up to the mecha's warmth next to him. Sure, it was always nice to have a lover in the berth, but to have _Drift_ was beyond special.

Gradually, with the sluggishness of a hard overload and no need to hurry, Drift's systems began to power to wakefulness.

The white jet hummed very softly to himself, waiting while his lover slowly rebooted. He was in no rush to do anything himself, his body still faintly tingling from that overload. His body was telling him quite firmly that it was not at all opposed to melting into a puddle of contented goo and staying that way for a while.

"Is it always like that?" Drift murmured before he even bothered turning on his optics. Touch told him more than enough for now.

"As far as I've heard, it is," Wing replied, nuzzling closer. He let out a contented little purr as he settled with his helm on Drift's chest, one wing spread over the white grounder.

Drift lazily moved an arm around Wing, holding him and lightly stroking his side as he processed the words. "I'm your first?" his tone was a mixture of awe and shock.

The white jet nodded, purring happily at the contact. "I had other lovers, before you came the first time, but none of them I really felt the urge to spark merge with."

With a slow nod Drift continued to stroke Wing's side, enjoying the warmth and contentedness in the systems cuddled against his own. He had gotten very accustomed to a lover against him since Windswept had joined him, but this felt so much _better_. "I missed you so much."

"And I missed you," was the soft reply. "By the time I returned to the city, most of my memories had come back. I was devastated to learn you were gone, even though I was only a youngling when I found my way back here."

"Long gone and likely an Autobot by then," he nodded. "I had no plans to return until Windswept was hurt so badly. The war's still too ugly for him to recover."

Wing clung a bit tighter. "I'm glad you're back... And this is the best place for Windswept to recover. Most of the universe at large still doesn't know about this place... There is no war here. No need to fight."

"And everyone here has a vested interest in it staying that way," Drift agreed. "I never gave the sector, much less coordinates of the city. Not even it's designation. Anything in a report will eventually find its way to the Decepticons."

Wing purred against him, golden optics warm and soft. "Something we would prefer to avoid... I heard from Axe once that there were some close calls with Decepticons when the Circle left Cybertron, millennia ago."

"I don't doubt it," Drift nodded. "It wasn't any of the ships I was on."

A yawn interrupted what the jet was going to say next. Wing blinked, then shrugged to himself and settled as close to Drift as he could physically get. The action was welcomed by a low, rumbling purr from Drift's systems as they both settled in for some real recharge.


	12. Love's Calling

As reluctant as Drift had been to ask Wing to find something else to do for the evening and night, he knew he needed to spend time with Windswept without the other half of his spark nearby. He cared for Windswept, perhaps loved him, but Wing ... Wing was a part of him on a level he still refused to contemplate.

He was just grateful when Wing had not only agreed without a fuss, but seemed to _understand_. So it was with a reasonably focused processor and calm-enough spark that he walked into the Knight's medbay and nodded a greeting to Redline.

Redline looked up from the scanner he was slowly passing over Windswept's body, returning the greeting. "Now that you're here, I'll bring him out of stasis." 

After getting an acknowledgement from Drift, the medic began booting Windswept, paying careful attention to his readouts and the state of his field. The calm reassurance, sense of support and care from Drift as the warrior meshed his field with Windswept's was a relief.

The blue mech came online slowly, systems running in smooth harmony for the first time in almost a vorn. Optics onlined, taking in the room without the edge of terror from before, and settled on Drift.

A flicker of hesitation before Windswept reached out to Drift.

"Hey, feeling better?" Drift smiled down and met his hand with a gentle touch.

The medic ran one last check, then put the scanner away. "I'll leave you two alone for the moment. If you need me, I will be in the next room cleaning equipment." Redline nodded to both, then drifted away on nearly silent pedes, vanishing through another door.

"I-." Windswept froze, then shivered as memory caught up again, spells of awareness in a sea of dark time making up so much of his recent recall. The small increase in noise as he fought rising distress of everything piling on him all at once.

Desperation as Windswept held on to Drift, the support being offered keeping him from flying to pieces in the moment.

"I know," Drift held him closely, stroking his back in comfort. "Time will sooth the pain, but it never completely goes away."

The shivering mech in his arms nodded slowly after a bit, calming some with the steadiness of his mate.

"Would you like to return to our quarters for energon and real recharge?" Drift asked softly. "In our ship."

"Ours?" Windswept repeated hopefully, wanting what was being offered so badly it flooded his field. Wanted the safety, the normality, of something familiar and good.

"Yes, _our_ quarters," Drift repeated clearly. "On board Wing's Spark. We'll be given quarters in the city, but not until we're ready."

"Please." There were questions he needed to ask, and answers to those questions he would have to face. He had not forgotten where they were or what had happened before he had been placed in stasis again.

But in the moment he simply wanted out of the strange medical bay.

Drift smiled and kissed the center of his helm before helping him stand. "Then come. We can finally recharge together in our own berth again."

Ours. Theirs.

Windswept clung to the white mech for a moment, field a tangle of thanks and relief, fear and hope, before he found himself tucked against Drift's side as they navigated their way from the med bay. It was a silent journey, yet one full of support and understanding from Drift. Not a word was spoken until the ship's hatch closed behind them.

"Energon first," Drift murmured firmly, guiding him to the small energon dispenser halfway between the living quarters and the cockpit.

Windswept nodded, familiar with the drill even if he was not usually the one on the receiving end. Habit had him reaching to make two cubes, one for himself and one for Drift, as soon as they reached the dispenser. Drift let him, knowing from experience that normalcy, however superficial, would help Windswept get over the initial shock.

What came next ... well, Drift was determined that Windswept wouldn't have to recover the way he had.

The cube of glowing mid grade, slightly stronger than actually required by Windswept's systems but easier than keeping two forms of main energon onboard, was offered to Drift before Windswept even tasted his own. 

As much as he wanted to care for the blue mech that had managed to squirm his way into his spark, Drift made no objection to refueling first. It wasn't worth the stress to Windswept to change things now. So he took a long sip, made sure his mate wasn't going to ignore his cube and guided Windswept to their quarters.

"I've missed you," Drift murmured, his field expressing just how lonely the past near-vorn was. "It's good to have you back and healthy enough to walk around."

Windswept looked down at the energon, staring into as though hoping to find answers to the swirling mass that was that was made of his own emotions. Confusion. Fear. The desire to simply be held and reassured that everything was going to be all right.

Optics flitted over the berth they had shared since he had been given to Drift. Around the familiar berth room, to the empty mount on the wall and then to Drift and the absence of the sword that to Windswept was an extension of the white warrior.

So much had changed that he knew nothing about.

"Sorry."

"You don't need to be," Drift said quietly, guiding his mate to the berth to sit and gently tugging Windswept to curl against him. "Nothing that happened was your fault."

The blue mech needed little urging, selfishly arranging himself to put as much of their armor in contact as possible. Energon was forgotten until a gentle reminder had him consuming it on autopilot.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Drift murmured, gently stroking Windswept's frame to comfort him.

"Is my fault." Windswept countered, guilt heavy in his field. "Wasn't strong enough. Can't take care of myself. Endangered you."

Captured to be used against the mech who claimed him as a mate. A danger to the most important thing in his life. A failure. 

"Don't you dare," Drift rumbled in open displeasure. "It's _their_ fault. Not yours. Not mine. The mercs."

The blue mech shivered at Drift's tone, cringing as he hadn't since the obedience programming had been lifted.

"Windswept," Drift sighed and rested his helm against his mate's. "I'm not angry. But you need to stop blaming yourself. What happened is not your fault. It wasn't mine when I've been taken either."

Windswept's field settled some as that registered, the idea that Drift was not upset with him nor blamed him for what happened taking the edge off his guilt.

Drift...Drift understood. The realization of that, even if Windswept didn't understand everything he was feeling at the moment, helped as well. Quieter now, he concentrated on finishing off the energon.

"Good," Drift kissed the top of his helm gently, his hands still stroking blue armor. "It'll be a long time before you're feeling normal unless you have the last couple orns of your memories wiped, but it will get better. This is the best place to recover possible."

"You are planning to stay." Windswept leaned into Drift more as he spoke, unsure, as he contemplated the idea, the possibility of forgetting.

"Yes," he nodded slightly. "I'm not planning to leave anytime soon."

With a soft vent another layer of tension drained from Windswept, the blue mech's frame finally easing some. The first traces of exhaustion replaced the looming fear and doubt in the safety of the ship he knew as home and the arms of his mate.

"Recharge?" Drift murmured, hoping his mate could, and that he'd try, in Drift's arms. It had been a bitterly lonely near-vorn for him guiding the ship here and he wanted Windswept warm and recharging in his arms.

Warm field pressed into Drift as Windswept snuggled against him. "Be here when I wake?" The blue mech asked softly.

"Promise," Drift nodded and easily slid down to his side so Windswept could snuggle against him as they recharged. "I'm not going anywhere."

Contentment as Windswept slipped into recharge, his field tangled with Drift's as his optics went dim and systems went quiet.

* * *

Midmorning. Drift and Windswept had both recharged and been lazy for nearly half an orn until Drift had nudged his mate, saying that they were scheduled to meet Wing. There was enough time for a leisurely breakfast, a long shower and detailing for them both before Drift lead Windswept into the city in alt mode. While many mecha there walked, driving was faster. Despite the incredible views, Windswept's processors were locked on the fact that now Drift had left _all_ his swords in the ship.

Never in all of his functioning had he seen the warrior willing parted from one of his blades, much less all of them at once. For him to be willing to venture out that way here marked the city as something far different from anything Windswept had encountered.

The level of comfort Drift displayed calmed Windswept, the worry they might not be accepted here still fresh enough in his processor to cause fear when it surfaced. And even with Drift's willingness to go unarmed Windswept tailed him close enough to almost touch for the entire trip. Much to his relief, Drift didn't object, even when it was enough to hinder his movements a bit.

::You'll like Wing,:: Drift commed him, his voice a soft reassurance. ::He already likes you.::

A flash of surprise. ::How can he like me?::

::He asked a _lot_ about you,:: Drift chuckled a bit. ::Wing's a curious creature, but he also knows that keeping me close means getting along with you.::

::He is your Wing then.:: There was joy there, but under it a note of sadness, quickly hidden.

A shiver passed through Drift frame before he pulled to the side of the road and transformed. "Yes, he is," Drift couldn't stop his vocalizer from giving a bit of static as it hit him once more. "I want this to work," he drew Windswept close for a reassuring kiss before they entered the small cafe. "For all three of us."

For the moment, the kiss and the honest truth Windswept could feel behind it was enough. "Thank you." A moment of contact as the blue mechs field echoed his words.

"Try to remember that _nothing_ needs to be decided today," Drift added as he made his way to the counter with casual slowness, giving himself time to read the menu and translate prices. He had plenty of local credits, converted from his galactic standard currency, but that didn't mean he was going to be any more wasteful with it than he was out there.

Only here there was no barter or bargaining; New Crystal City discouraged the practice. Part of their system to control poverty that went along with free shelter and survival-level energon for all.

"What would you like?" Drift asked as they approached the counter.

"Warm midgrade." Windswept requested softly, optics scanning the cafe from his place at Drift's side, noting the differences between here and practically the rest of the galaxy.

Curious looks, but looks that were just that- curious. No threats. No aggression or fear, not even distrust. It was disconcerting, to some degree.

"A standard sampler for two, warm grounder midgrade," Drift requested from the mech at the counter as he unsubspaced a credit bar the city preferred over actual credits.

"Yes, sir," the pale blue and white mecha smiled warmly at the pair but waved Drift's credit stick off. "Wing is paying this orn," he explained before turning to dispensing three servings of the requested energon into a large pouring cube that was put on a tray with two normal sized cubes for drinking. A second mecha, a lightly built deep blue and white mechling, added two dozen small containers, some sealed and some open, of various additives for them to mix in on their own.

Windswept glanced at Drift, then reached for the tray as he waited for Drift to choose a place for them to sit. A light touch on his arm and subtle look was all it took for Drift to communicate his choice, and Windswept dutifully followed him to the corner table. It was lightly shadowed, gave a good view of the door and much of the establishment, and it would protect their backs.

Some habits of a functioning would not be broken easily.

Jet engines boomed faintly overhead as a large airframe, the color, size, and the distinctive wings identifying it as Dai Atlas proving that his wings were good for something other than letting everyone know when he was in a mood, wove between the towers in the direction of the Citadel. Darting and spiraling and playing around the blue jet was a smaller white one, looking oddly like a puppy frisking around an older dog. After a moment the white jet peeled away, curving around and descending, weaving expertly in and out of the city towers. 

Wing transformed as he approached the ground, landing neatly and folding his wings. Bright optics scanned the cafe, spotting Drift and Windswept. Smiling, Wing walked over to join them after stopping at the counter for a cube of much more potent jet midgrade.

Windswept went very still at the jet's approach, expression neutral as he studied the mech he had heard about but never expected to meet. He leaned into Drift's touch and nuzzle before catching himself that he hadn't poured the energon yet.

"Just a couple fingers worth, so we can try all the additions," Drift murmured as Wing sat down. "I see you got him to fly."

"That look gets him every time," Wing replied with a chuckle. "That and some teasing about not being able to fly anymore after living underground for so long. He informed me that he could, in fact, fly, and I told him to prove it." He took a sip of his energon. "Axe offered to toss him off the balcony for me if Dai balked." Golden optics turned to Windswept as Drift laughed uproariously, returning his look with bright curiosity.

Energon had been poured, smoothly and silently, in the time it had taken Wing to answer, with Drift's small cube offered first. Only when the optics settled on him did Windswept's motion stutter a bit, unsure.

"He doesn't bite," Drift stage whispered playfully. "Copper?"

"I assure you I don't," Wing agreed. "If I do, feel free to tattle to my creators and let them lecture me about it." He smile was bright and cheerful.

Windswept held up his cube in agreement, his field reaching out to weave the edge against Drift's. Surprise when the playfulness in his voice went clear through the white grounders field, and lessened of Windswept's own wariness in response.

The brightness of Wing's field lessened it even more, to the point that the blue mech dared to ask. "He doesn't bite, or he only bites when you ask him to?"

Drift chuckled deeply, his humor honest. "I haven't asked, though on occasion he enjoys being bitten."

Wing chirred softly, but didn't deny that.

The copper had a sweet, sharp flavor that Windswept found he didn't mind but probably wouldn't try again. Finishing it, he settled more comfortably on the bench and waiting for Drift to finish his. He could tell simply by the way his mate drank that is _did_ suit Drift's tastes, though not on the level of being a regular thing. Likely something he'd enjoy when he wanted to feel pampered.

"So how are the big mecha taking things, now that you survived a night alone with me?" Drift asked, half teasing, half serious.

"Axe gave me the _look_ , but it's Dai who's the unhappy one," Wing replied. "I'm younger now than I was back then, and he is in full overprotective creator mode. I finally told him that I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and he could shove his disapproval up his waste port." He took another sip of his energon. "His expression was priceless."

Drift's cube was stolen from him as soon as it was empty, wiped and refilled and offered back with the next sample as Windswept simply listened. The white warrior barely noticed he was laughing so hard. "He really should have expected that."

"I've never been quite that blunt with him," Wing replied, sending a databurst with the image of the great, dignified Dai Atlas doing his best impression of a landed fish. "At least, not since I came back." A bright grin. "It's something he'll just have to get used to."

"Yes he will," Drift's bright laughter echoed around the room, drawing a few curious looks but mostly smiles their direction. He eventually calmed down enough to try the gold laced energon, and grimaced at the taste of it.

Wing took a pinch of the copper additive, sprinkling it into his cube, then adding a pinch of silver. "Combining them changes the taste, too," he told the other two, sipping from his cube and letting out a delighted chirr. "Axe will come around pretty quickly. Getting Dai to accept it will be a work in progress for the next few vorns, I expect."

"Time we have," Drift nodded, determined, even as he offered the rest of his gold-laced energon to Windswept to try.

Finding the gold not to his taste either Windswept emptied his cube and reached for another type, making note of Wing's comment. Once he had an idea of the base flavors he would experiment with combining them in different ways. Next up: arsenic.

The white jet smiled brightly, optics glowing. "Between the three of us, we should be able to set him straight."

"I am not sure I will be much assistance..." Windswept murmured softly, taking a sip of the arsenic laced energon and passing the bitter drink to Drift with a grimace.

Without waiting he filled another cube with some of the straight energon, using it to wash the taste away. He wasn't honestly that surprised to hear Drift's vocalizer buzz with appreciation. He'd likely enjoy it a great deal when mixed with some copper.

"You'd both probably enjoy a carbon-aluminum mix," Wing suggested helpfully. "More sweet than bitter, and very earthy."

"You'll be helpful," Drift told Windswept firmly as he reached out to caress the blue mech's cheek plate. "As proof I'm capable of caring if nothing more."

Wing nodded. "I have no intention of leaving you out, Windswept. My creators won't, either." His golden optics were bright and honest.

Windswept leaned into the touch, optics going dim for a moment as he simply felt before his attention returned to Wing. "Your creators sound like interesting mecha."

Reaching out he selected another additive, this one much darker in color. Tasting it, he added another and purred at the sweet, spicy resulting flavor. His purr deepened when he felt Drift's pleasure at his enjoyment.

"Axe, the big black mech, is more laid back... He takes things in stride, and he's usually fairly mellow. Unless you wake him up too early." Wing's smile brightened. "Dai Atlas likes to act stern, but once you get to know him, he's all mush inside. It's just getting past his shell. He takes his duty to lead and protect the city seriously."

"They came from Cybertron?" Windswept's memories of the planet were far from complete, mostly consisting of his first few joor of functioning and the time they had spent there when the slave programming had been removed.

"They're both _ancient_ ," Drift added. "Dai Atlas was a legend by Sentinel's time," his tone held a level of respect he gave to _very_ few. "Not sure how old Axe is, but I know he was with Dai Atlas for many campaigns before they disappeared."

"It was Dai and Axe who first founded the Circle of Light," Wing told Windswept. "They pretty much founded this city. Dai Atlas had seen enough war, enough death, and Axe followed him. Axe is about the same age as Dai is, roughly." Slender wings flicked. "Every time I ask, he dodges the question."

That earned a small smile from Windswept, the blue mech finally starting to relax more. If Wing really wanted to know Windswept was sure he would get it out of the black mech eventually.

He was stubborn enough to make his way back to Drift even though his spark had been extinguished after all.

"Try this one," Drift pushed a sample cube towards Windswept. "It's _sweet_."

His tone left no doubt that it was far too sweet for him.

Wing chirred softly. He leaned back a bit in his chair. "Once you do get past Dai and Axe's shells, they're likely to adopt the both of you... Since I have no intention of leaving either of you."

"The intention is quite mutual," Drift's engine rumble in response to the threat the very thought represented to him.

Windswept's field shifted as he considered the idea, the concept of being wanted by another, by anyone besides Drift. "Why?"

"You're part of Drift, and Drift is part of you," Wing replied. "It's impossible to accept one but not the other. That's something I would prefer to avoid." He lifted a hand as if to touch Wind's arm, then caught himself and lowered it again, fairly sure that Wind did not want to be touched by someone the blue mech barely knew.

A soft vent from Windswept as he tried to process that. It was still confused when he finally responded, but the acceptance from Wing...slowly his field reached out, hesitant in its welcome but completely sincere.

Wing smiled, his field reaching out to touch Windswept's. It was bright with acceptance and welcome and curiosity, pulsing gently against Wind's.

The blue mech leaned into Drift, unconsciously seeking comfort and strength in the physical presence of the other mech as his field relaxed, slowly inviting Wing deeper. In a way this was deeper than words, the sincerity and the honest fact that Wing did like him going far in settling Windswept nearly as much as Drift's physical and field embrace.

They both really did want him. Maybe no one was sure how this would work yet, but for now this was enough. The two mecha that mattered both wanted him to be with them, to stay and remain part of Drift's orn to orn existence.

Wing's field embraced Windswept's, the jet's smile radiant, almost too bright to look at. He looked forward to getting to know the blue mech.

* * *

A large black mech waited at the entrance to the Citadel, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. Every now and then another Knight or passing civilian would greet the black mech, but for the most part he was left to his own thoughts.

Both Axe and Dai Atlas had been startled by Drift's reaction toward the Great Sword he was bonded to. They'd spent a good half the night discussing it. Both of them could understand why Drift was so angry, but that didn't make a Sword separated from its bearer any easier to handle. Too Pure For This World was _very_ unhappy about not being with its bearer, and its displeasure was leaking over into Strength of Conviction and Sentry of Balance. Dai Atlas had actually caught himself snapping at another Knight earlier that morning, already off balance from his Sword's unease. 

Axe needed to talk with Drift about Too Pure For This World. Which was why he was waiting for Wing, Drift, and Windswept to return. He wasn't at all surprised to see Drift walking with an arm around Windswept, supporting the smaller blue mech, while Wing leaned against Drift's other side, his wings twitching happily as they walked.

Wing was the first to notice the black giant, or at least the first to react to him. Offering his creator a bright smile, Wing very pointedly got Drift to look at him to claim a scalding hot kiss that left the grounder's engine revving hard and his temperature spiking.

Windswept had pulled away at the change in Drift's field, but had watched the whole exchange with a small, amused smile.

Axe rolled his optics as much as he could, shaking his helm as he pushed away from the doorframe he'd been leaning against, stepping forward to greet the trio. "You've already made your point, Wing."

The jet grinned cheekily up at him, quite pleased with the faintly dazed state Drift was in. That it actually took the white grounder several nanokliks to focus on Axe was a triumph in Wing's optics.

"When has that ever stopped him?" Drift asked dryly, amusement in his pale blue optics.

The black Knight chuckled. "True enough." Blue optics settled on Windswept, and Axe offered the much smaller blue mech a smile. "Nice to see you up and about, Windswept."

Wing leaned around Drift to look at Windswept, indicating the black mech. "Wind, this is Axe, my other creator."

Hesitant optics took in the large mech as Windswept nodded. "Thank you. It is- it is good to be moving again."

"He's not nearly as scary as he looks," Drift added teasingly towards the large mech towering over all three of them. "You aren't out here just for the view."

"All mush inside," Wing confirmed cheerfully, ignoring his creator's amused snort.

Axe chuckled, shaking his helm at both of them, then looked at Drift. "Quarters have been assigned to you and Windswept, here in the Citadel. I'll show you to them, and then you and I have to have words, Drift."

Tension rippled across Drift's fields at that, but he made no outward indication it worried him a great deal.

Windswept had found his way back to Drift's side, optics sweeping up the length of the Citadel reluctantly until the shift in Drift brought his attention abruptly back to the white mech as Drift nodded his acceptance of both statements.

"We will move in the morning so my ship can be placed in storage," Drift told him.

The big black triple changer nodded. It was the best he'd expected; Drift had felt secure in his ship for many vorns. It would take him time to feel secure again. No doubt Windswept would need time as well.

He waved for them to follow, turning and walking into the Citadel and led them to the higher levels, where Wing had his quarters. The quarters assigned to Drift and Windswept were on the same level as Wing's, only a couple of doors down.

"These are your quarters," Axe told Drift, showing both Drift and Windswept the code for the door. "I figured you would want to be near Wing, though it took some prodding to get Dai Atlas to cooperate."

"Thank you," Drift inclined his helm slightly as Wing absolutely beamed in pleasure.

Axe inclined his helm in reply, then caught Wing's optic. The white jet took the hint, leaning in to steal a kiss from Drift, letting his field brush warmly against Windswept's. Then he took himself off, leaving Drift and Windswept with his creator.

The blue mech slipped around to put more of Drift between himself and the black. While he trusted Drift completely and had no reason to doubt Wing, the shadows in Windswept's processor were not as easy to convince.

In silence the pair followed the giant into their quarters. All Drift saw beyond watching Axe was that the entry room was safe, though he couldn't be sure what was beyond the closed door that would be to the berthroom, and the washrack beyond it. Without a word, Drift motioned towards the couch for Axe and guided Windswept to a large chair that would support them both.

Axe settled onto the couch, glad he'd chosen to leave his swords in the quarters he shared with Dai Atlas. He didn't need his Great Sword's unease interfering here. Sentry of Balance was a mellow weapon, but it was also violently opposed to what had happened to Too Pure For This World and was not shy about letting Axe know just how displeased it was.

For a moment he just watched the other two mechs, then spoke. "Might I ask what you are planning on doing, since I know you intend to stay in New Crystal City. Will you be a civilian, or will you train as a full Knight?"

Windswept was tucked against Drift, folded into the chair with the white mech's arm around in a move that was both possessive and comforting. At the question he leaned into the larger mech, silent support as he listened and waited.

Drift's pale blue optics locked onto him as tension played across his frame briefly. "Do I even have a choice? It's bonded to me."

Axe sighed. "Yes, you do have a choice. Dai and myself will not push you if you choose not to become part of the Circle. But you will still carry the Sword."

Drift fell silent, simply too baffled to think for a moment.

Axe leaned back, arms once again folded across his chestplate, waiting for Drift to react or respond.

"How does that even work?" Drift struggled to ask when he couldn't even begin to grasp the fundamentals of the situation.

"The Sword didn't exactly give you a choice about bonding to it, but that bond cannot be undone. If you do not want to join the Circle and be trained as a full Knight, we will respect that." Serious blue optics met Drift's. "But you will have to take your Sword. That's not something you can avoid. It is bonded to you, like it or not."

Drift's optics turned down, a reflexive plea to Primus for guidance. It didn't matter that this wasn't Cybertron. Their creator-god was always beneath their pedes, at the center of their world.

In Axe's opinion, it was a good sign. Any acceptance of the spiritual nature of their kind was more than Drift had left them with.

"Do you have another defense force?" Drift finally asked.

"The Knights protect the city; other than the Circle there is a search and rescue force, but they are not expected to do any actual fighting," Axe answered. "They are civilians, and they came here to avoid fighting in the first place."

"Then I'll try to become a Knight," Drift said quietly, openly uneasy with the choice but not seeing any better options. "I might even be good at it when that sword's done with me."

Axe nodded. "I would recommend that you take your Great Sword back soon, for everyone's sake. They do not like being taken from their bearers, and they let every Knight in the vicinity know."

Drift winced at that. "Right, fine. I wasn't trying to piss anything off."

"The Great Swords are more than just jewels and steel. They are _alive_. Semi-sentient in their own right. They communicate with each other in ways we still don't quite understand, and we've been around them for a very long time." Axe shrugged slightly. "They form close bonds with their bearers. The Great Swords dislike being separated from their bearers even more than the bearers themselves do, and the displeasure of a Great Sword is, unfortunately for anyone in the vicinity, contagious."

Again Drift was stunned to silence, his optics flashing in shock as he really processed that. "How much of a bond _survives_?"

The black mech spread his hands helplessly. "We really don't know. The Great Swords are a mystery, even to those of us who've been bound to one for many millennia. And they're not telling any of us their secrets. But then, Wing did sense Too Pure For This World approaching before any of us knew, so we know he has a lingering latent bond with the Great Swords itself. How deep that bond is, no one is really sure. And getting Wing to hold still long enough to test it is just this side of impossible."

That made Drift chuckle, if weakly. "Wing is still very much Wing." He shook his head in tolerant bemusement of the jet. "I never stood a chance."

And for once, the statement wasn't full of hate and resentment.

"He is still Wing," Axe agreed. "Though even more of a flit now than he was before. Aerialbot influence is my bet. No one stands a chance against him."

"He was called a flit and distraction personified," Drift couldn't help the fond smile for the Aerialbot. "I didn't spend much time around Fireflight, but it doesn't take much."

Axe chuckled. "His Aerialbot sparklinghood gave us a much bouncier, playful Wing. Surprised the Pit out of Dai and myself when he came back." Blue optics narrowed slightly as he chewed on something, debating whether or not to say it out loud.

"I'm sure a few others in Prime's core cadre had something to do with it too," Drift said as he thought back to the short time he'd spent with the group on Earth. "They are an odd group, and I don't doubt the lot of them spoiled him completely."

"It would explain quite a bit," Axe agreed. "After his memories fully returned, his personality settled close to what he was like before. Just... livelier." He regarded Drift for a moment, noting that Windswept seemed much more comfortable with the revelations than Drift. "If a bond does survive beyond death, then it is possible you and Wing do have a connection. Through the Great Sword, rather than directly to each other."

"I'm sure the fact that I would have bonded with him if he'd asked played a part," Drift said softly. "Still don't understand how a Great Sword that chose _Wing_ found me agreeable enough to ... bond to."

"You're more like him than you think," the black Knight pointed out with a slight smile. "Your core personalities are actually very similar. It's your experiences that have made you so different. Wing has lived here his whole life in peace. He never suffered in the war, even with the Aerialbots. While you've been through the Pit and back from your first orn as I understand it. I am not surprised the Great Sword likes you."

Drift cocked his helm, staring at Axe for a long, silent moment as he contemplated that.

"Not that different?" he finally repeated, trying to chew on the statement by saying it out loud as much as asking.

"Both yourself and Wing are intense and rebellious, focused, determined, and willing to do anything for what you believe in," Axe ticked off. "Your experiences have shaped you, but at the core, you and Wing are very much alike."

Gradually a form of understanding, or at least trust-acceptance that it was true, crept across Drift's features.

Axe regarded the white mech for a long moment, judging how shellshocked Drift was and how much more he could say before Drift zoned out. "He would have bonded with you in a sparkpulse, had you asked," he finally told Drift, responding to one of the white grounder's previous statements. "He still would. When you are ready." The Knight's optics caught Windswept's. "Wing won't leave you out."

"I know," Drift nodded with a shudder that was half awe and half deep rooted fear. "I ... think he knows where we stand. That this is waiting on me, not him and not willingness. I ... don't think I could take losing him again any more than Dai Atlas could."

"Wing will wait as long as he has to," Axe told Drift softly. "He's waited this long just for you to return." The black mech tilted his helm slightly. "Losing you or Windswept would break Wing, as well."

There was a flicker of irrational delight at hearing that for Drift. Not at the prospect of hurting another, but that he mattered _that_ much to anyone. His spark gave a deep pulse of _want-pleasure-awe_ that echoed to Too Pure For This World, right along with his acceptance of the blade as _his_.

The blue mech shifted against Drift, snuggling closer and seeking understanding for things that he didn't understand. Wing's supposed attachment to him being the main source of confusion in the moment. A small frown on his lips as memories lined up with the recent revelations.

::What is it?:: Drift nudge at Windswept with a private but intentionally easily hacked comm.

Picking up the comm signal, Axe hacked it, listening quietly even as he made a note of how simple the encryption was compared to the last time. The black Knight settled back, watching the other two, waiting patiently.

::Your sword...it spoke to me once.:: Blue helm tilted to look Drift in the optics, Windswept's thoughtful. ::When you were injured after a battle, and you were repaired at the Autobot outpost. It ... someone ... told me to take care of you. Because they no longer could.::

::Wing's spirit, or part of it,:: Drift suggested, though he didn't know for sure. ::I ... always felt him in the sword. It's why I _wanted_ it. It was the ... it was all that still felt of him,:: he hugged Windswept close, the memories of that lost still blindingly painful when faced directly.

Axe blinked as he heard that. Blue optics narrowed slightly as the black mech pondered that revelation while Drift recovered his balance, making a mental note to comment on it to Dai Atlas. Once Drift took his Great Sword back and Dai's temper wasn't so volatile, of course.

::It sounded like him.:: Windswept admitted, able to say that now that he had met the mech in person.

A stutter of a purr rumbled from Drift's engine at the thought that Wing really was conscious enough in the blade to have at least some awareness of all Drift had done in the mech's honor. Gradually, Drift got himself centered again and looked up at Axe. "What do I need to do to reclaim the Great Sword?"

"Find Dai Atlas and tell him that you are there to claim your Sword," Axe replied. "Finding him won't be hard; he's been holed up in our quarters since catching himself snapping at another Knight."

Drift let out a low sigh from his vents and nodded. "Might as well do that now, unless there was more you had to say."

"That covers it." Axe climbed to his pedes, stretching briefly. 

He led the way to the quarters he and Dai Atlas shared, two levels down, closer to the main floors of the Citadel. Dai Atlas wasn't in the entry chamber, but when Axe walked into the berthroom to retrieve Too Pure For This World, in a bracket next to Dai Atlas' and Axe's own Great Swords, a large mass of blue metal could be seen sprawled out on the berth.

Axe handled Drift's Sword gingerly, a grimace on his face. "Not a happy Sword," he told Drift as he returned the blade to its wielder.

"Not the first pissed off lover I've dealt with," Drift managed a cheeky grin that looked a bit out of place on his face before the full force of the rejection hit him with physical contact. "Shu, I know," he murmured, his attention focused on the blade in his hands and oblivious to those around him.

"But probably the sharpest," Axe commented, watching with a sharp optic as Drift caressed the long blade, closing one hand around it in an open offer of his own energon if the Great Sword wished.

He might not know the ways of the Knights or Circle, but Drift did understand penance from one warrior to another.

"That honor belongs to Cryo," Drift said absently. "She was as unforgiving as Wing is forgiving."

Axe snorted, shifting his weight slightly. A moment later there was the sound of moving metal, and a blue form appeared behind the black triple changer. Dai Atlas watched over Axe's shoulder as Drift handled the agitated Great Sword, Axe shifting to lean against his mate.

~That took less time than I anticipated,~ Dai Atlas admitted, watching as the uneasy, unconventional bonding came to an initial acceptance. ~It wants some penance in payment for being abandoned.~

~I had 'the talk' with him,~ Axe replied, leaning back into the warmth of his mate's torso. ~For his sake and ours; I had forgotten how difficult a cranky Great Sword can be. And I am not surprised in the least. How much penance, is the question.~

~And what kind,~ Dai Atlas managed sounded uneasy. ~It's just contrary enough right now to want energon. I've never sanctioned a breaking for an Initiate.~

Reaching back, Axe twined his fingers with his mate's. ~Hopefully it won't be too extreme. Defying a Great Sword is worse than separating it from its bearer. But we will have to wait until the Sword makes known what it wants.~

Behind Drift was the form of his mate, some attention spared for the warriors whose quarters they had invaded, but most of it on his mate and the Great Sword he held. He had seen Drift reunited with the blade before, and could see the difference now compared to the past.

It barely took a klik before Drift's frustration to show. "What do you _want_?"

"Calm," Axe murmured, watching Drift struggle to communicate intentionally for the first time. "The Sword will tell you. When it decides."

Drift's first lesson in being a bearer, a Knight; the Great Swords were not something you could make demands of.

Thick white armor rustled and settled as Drift tried, but he was in no state to hear yet.

"Go to your ship. Meditate," Dai Atlas told him. "It will tell you when you've centered yourself."

"Getting impatient with it might make whatever it decides on worse," Axe added mildly. "That happened to me once, when I was much younger. I learned from that. I would rather you not learn that particular lesson yet."

Drift gave Axe a look that warned he would be asking about that, but later. He inclined to helm to them and sheathed Too Pure For This World.

Axe only tilted his helm in response. "When it finally decides, let us know." He handed Drift a datachip containing his own comm frequency. "I expect that you'll need some assistance deciphering what it will be telling you; communicating with a Great Sword can be awkward until you've been at it for a while. We will handle the arrangements."

"All right," Drift accepted both instructions and chip before he turned to leave, intent on doing as instructed.

The triple-changers watched the pair depart, Windswept at Drift's side in silence as always. It was already a little odd to see one without the other, even if the blue mecha didn't speak much.

"This will be a most interesting decaorn," Dai Atlas murmured as he drew Axe against his chest. "It's a relief that they're together again."

"With Drift back, I doubt life will ever be boring again," the black Knight replied, pressing himself against warm blue armor, tilting his helm to look up at Dai Atlas. "I think I almost crashed his processor a couple of times, giving him the 'Sword talk'."

The blue giant chuckled and tipped his helm to kiss his mate. "I'm sure Wing did a few times too. Mmm, I don't suppose you know how far those two went?"

"From the way Wing was practically floating, they spark merged," Axe replied, humming into the kiss as Dai Atlas' turbines roared his displeasure at the idea.

"He's too young."

"Try telling Wing that, and he'll blow up in your face," Axe informed him, poking Dai Atlas in the midsection. "What's done is done."

"Doesn't mean I have to approve," the larger mech grumbled. "I may have consented they're going to bond, but this is too soon." His wings twitched in creator-driven distress. "What if Drift leaves, or his mate objects? It would destroy Wing, and we only just got him back."

"Drift plans on training to become a full Knight," Axe replied. "He's not planning on leaving. Drift has admitted that losing Wing would destroy Drift himself as much as it would you or I."

"He left before," Dai Atlas rumbled stubbornly. "We don't know Windswept or how much of a hold he has."

"He left after Wing's death." Axe turned around, reaching up to lightly grasp Dai Atlas' helm. "Drift told me that, had Wing asked before that horrific battle, they would have bonded. Had Wing not died that orn, Drift would have stayed."

Shock cracked in Dai Atlas' field, his rich ruby optics flaring brightly in shock. "That quickly? He was a _Decepticon_ when he arrived!"

"I was as surprised to hear that as you are." Axe released the blue helm, dropping his hand to Dai Atlas' chest. "By the end of it, he was no longer a Decepticon. He changed during his stay. For the better, in my opinion."

Dai Atlas couldn't deny that, even when part of him wanted to. Part of him rejoiced at the reminder that his first impression of the mech was wrong.

"I just don't want Wing hurt," Dai Atlas murmured.

Axe leaned into the taller mech's chest, tucking his helm under Dai Atlas' chin. "Nor do I."


	13. While Drift is Away

Windswept stayed close to Drift's side as they made their way back to the ship, quietly going back over everything that had just occurred. Drift's decision did not surprise. Nor did the revelations about the Great Swords, and the possible connection between Wing and Drift through the blade.

The talk of a price to pay, an apology to be made, worried him some, but there was enough to consider at the moment that something he didn't really understand could wait.

As they entered the ship he focused on Drift, studying the white mech and gauging just how distracted his mate was at the moment. Distress and determination were prominent in the warrior's field, along with some shame and more than a bit of confusion.

"I've called Wing," Drift said quietly as they made their way to the berthroom. "I should have another Knight around for this, and the penance. At least that's how Wing wanted it when he had to do it."

"A good idea." Windswept agreed instantly, since in truth he had no idea what was going on. Wing would, and right now the white Knight could, help Drift far more than he could.

The distress tugged at him, and he stepped closer to Drift once they reached the berth room, field reaching out first seeking any sign of rejection. Instead his advance was welcomed, embraced. 

Drift reached to pull him close, only just stopping himself from kissing his mate. Instead he gently rested his forehelm against Windswept's. "Things will work out fine. It won't have me killed."

The blue mech snuggled against him. "After all of that I hope not." He murmured in reply. "It's seems rather set on keeping your around."

He hesitated, then plunged in as he pressed against Drift. "You intend to do as you said, and see this training through?"

"It's better than the other options around here," Drift murmured, stroking Windswept's sides gently, soothingly. "I'm fairly sure the Great Sword will keep punishing me if I try to be something else."

Windswept had to agree with that on all counts. And privately he thought that Drift would make a good Knight. He vented softly as he leaned against Drift. "And what of me?" He asked softly.

"Nothing has to change for you, unless you _want_ to do some work beyond pampering me," Drift smiled softly. "The laws of the city and my stipend as a Knight can support us well enough."

"Love taking care of you." Windswept reminded him. "But I wasn't sure... With Wing being back..."

Wasn't sure if he was needed anymore.

"You'll just have two warriors to cope with," Drift smiled warmly. "Assuming you decide you want to take care of him too."

"If he will let me, of course." Windswept relaxed more. "He is yours."

"He is an unrepentant hedonist," Drift chuckled.

"Talking about me?" Wing's slightly amused voice called out before he entered the room.

Windswept nuzzled quickly at Drift before stepping back so that he could greet the jet.

"Are you sure you wish to be here?" Wing asked Windswept gently.

"Penance can be ... highly disturbing to watch," Drift supplied before his mate could think he was being sent away.

The blue mech didn't hesitate. "I'll stay."

That way he would be here when it was over, at least.

Drift nodded his acceptance and hugged him, giving him a kiss on the forehelm. "Then settle in. I doubt this will be quick."

Windswept nodded in understanding, then looked to Wing, seeking some sort of guidance as to what he should do. He had watched Drift meditate before, when the white mech had not chosen to do it while he recharged.

Normally he just settled on the berth with a bookfile and kept watch through an edge of field contact. But this time....

"Why don't you sit on the berth," Wing suggested as Drift let Windswept go. "You'll want to keep your field to yourself for this."

With a nod of agreement Drift drew Too Pure For This World and settled on his knees near the middle of the room.

"I can do that, so long as I won't be a disturbance." Windswept agreed, crossing the room and curling up on his accustomed place on the double berth.

"You won't," Wing promised. He brushed his field supportively against Drift's before settling on the berth a polite distance from Windswept. In silence they watched Drift settle, sinking into a meditative state that was both familiar and unsettling.

When he was sure that Drift was past any conscious ability to notice, Wing shifted his gaze to Windswept. "Have you thought about what you wish to do here, if anything?"

The blue mech shifted, slightly surprised at the question right after his discussion with Drift...but then he really shouldn't be. 

"I...I have to have something to do." The mere idea of not having any sort of work was enough to make his spark rebel. "Drift has consented to let me continue caring for him."

Wing chuckled, his smile warm and understanding. "I meant besides being our mate. You don't _need_ to work, but I think you're the type to go a little stir crazy with nothing much to do for twenty joors a day ... have you gotten the local times yet?"

There was a small smile in answer to the white jet's. "Drift had suggested that you might allow me to look after you as well. And no, I have not had the chance to look them up yet."

"I'd like that," Wing grinned and relaxed a little more. "A local day is thirty four point six joor. We rotate a bit faster than Cybertron." He paused and considered his early conversations with Drift over what he thought was so normal but was utterly alien to the outsider. "You don't need to do anything more than that. No one goes without shelter or enough energon to function here, even if they do nothing to earn credits. That was a difficult idea for Drift to grasp."

From the way that Windswept stared it was a difficult idea for him to grasp as well. The blue mech had never truly wanted for anything- Drift had seen to that- but Windswept had still learned the value of haggling and barter early in his functioning.

Even in his earlier conversation with Drift the warrior had made it clear that he still intended to support Windswept.

"There are mecha who function that way?" Windswept finally asked.

"A few," Wing nodded. "It is a rare thing, given the city founders are still functioning and at least ninety-five percept of our population are the original settlers. Only the best and brightest, those who had skills and wanted to work for a better future came. Even those who did not come originally were either sparked here or made a long journey to reach us. Some can no longer work, or do things that don't earn them credits. The laws and system is in place so no one has to suffer as Drift did. A people who have enough to survive are less likely to rebel."

That was far easier for him to understand, and he settled back down on the berth. It was a comfort too, the idea that one would not be simply discarded and forgotten when they were no longer 'useful'.

"I am not sure I possess skills at the moment that would make useful for anything beside looking after you and Drift." He admitted finally, honest in the fact that while had a wide range of skills he could only perform most of them on the most basic level.

Wing nodded in easy acceptance of that. "You would likely be surprised, should you find a reason to. If you are content with caring for us and our quarters, you are welcome to do that. Drift and my stipends as Knights will more than cover your needs."

Knights ... Windswept's optics moved back to the silent mech in the middle of the room. "How long can it take?"

"From where he's at," Wing considered his lover, the mech he'd come back to the living for. "At least forty centuries to finish the Initiate stage. Longer than I took the first time, but I don't have nearly as many issues to deal with. From the moment I was sparked, I was raised to be a Knight."

A sympatric flinch shook Windswept's frame. His mate had much to unlearn first.

"Yeah," Wing agreed. "It will be a long road, but I believe he will be _happy_ when he can claim to be a Knight of Light. Maybe by then he'll have settled enough to talk of a sparkling," he added wistfully. "He'll be a good creator."

A smile pulled at Windswept's lips. "You are going to have a hard time convincing almost everyone of that fact."

"The only ones I have to convince are you and Drift," Wing gave him a Cheshire grin. "My creators control who raises the sparklings that are called. It won't take much to talk them into it once he's a full Knight."

"Then you are going to have to convince Drift." Windswept amended as he shifted around on the berth. The new angle allowed him to keep an optic on his mate while putting him a little closer to Wing.

The jet extended his field gently towards Windswept in an invitation to mutual support while they watched Too Pure For This World lash out at Drift through the bond. "I have time," he said with the easy acceptance of one who very rarely didn't get what they set their spark on. "What do you like to do, between all the work that it takes to keep him functioning?"

"Study." Windswept answered before narrowing it down to more specifics as the edge of his field mingled slowly with Wing's.

"Before the coding was lifted it was things that would have benefit to Drift- reading designations, customs and trade, how to perform various repairs, pilot training. After it was much the same, but the music and the art I study now...because I like them."

"Cool," Wing was honestly delighted at such a civilized interest. "To create, or to understand?"

"To understand. I know how they are made, but to create such things myself..." A great deal of what he studied was beyond his ability to replicate, being alien in origin and often race specific. The Cybertronian arts he had been able to study he had made a few attempts with, initially, but the results had been so poor he had quickly given up.

Wing cocked his helm, reading much of what was unsaid in the young mech's field. "Would you _like_ to be able to create art?"

Windswept considered the possibility. "I would like the chance to try again, once things settle down some. If they do."

"It will," Wing promised with easy certainty. "Drift was only here for seven vorns before and he'd already settled into a routine. We have many master artisans here and most enjoy teaching. I can introduce you around if you'd like, once things settle."

"I would like that, eventually." Once he saw just how things were going to fall, and how much of his time would be need to be devoted to caring for Drift during his training. And once his own reactions settled to the point that he was not likely to cause offense without meaning to.

"If you'll accept the help, there are medics that know how to help mecha recover from intimate assaults," Wing offered gently. "I understand it's not an easy hurt to heal from."

Windswept nodded, to show that he had heard. He would keep it in mind as well, but... Fingers curled into fists, bunching the padding on the berth. 

That would mean more strangers. And facing his problem in their presence. And how...Drift's own 'healing', forced and unwelcome was still fresh in his memory.

Wing cocked his helm, regarding Windswept and his field, reading his field until the smaller mech settled a bit. "I didn't intend to bring up such bad memories," he offered with a gentle wave of support-apology. "I don't want you to hurt any longer than you must."

The blue mech visibly forced himself to settle before he answered, releasing the berth and managing to let go of most of the tension that had flooded his frame.

His pain, his hurt. The physical had been torture, being taken and used. But the knowledge of the purpose of his capture had been agony that had cut at his very spark.

"The wanted to use me against Drift."

"For the bounty on his helm," Wing guessed.

The blue mech nodded. "Bait to draw him in."

"So abusing you was simply to pass the time?" Wing thought about it. "Surely they realized it would only enrage him."

"I believe they severely under-estimated him." Windswept said, arms crossing defensively over his chestplates. "The intended to make a profit from ... from selling me once they had collected the bounty on him."

A low growl of Wing's turbines said plenty what he thought of _that_ idea. "I'm sorry it took you being hurt this badly for Drift to return."

He just couldn't be sorry that it had brought Drift back to him.

"Your interest in the arts," he went for a better subject. "Are there any that you like more than others? Sculpture, painting, an instrument, writing, oratory, dancing?"

"Writing, and music. I dance some, but not in public." Not any more, after that first time. Windswept started to relax again with the change of topic. "Drift encouraged me to follow my own interests after doing so no longer conflicted with my programming."

It brought a smile to Wing's faceplates. "I'm glad to hear it. Has a style caught your interest in particular yet for any of them?"

"Nothing in particular. With more time I can find something, I am sure. Since we are to be staying here."

Wing relaxed and smiled. "Time you will have, and the freedom to explore all the city has to offer." He paused as Drift stiffened slightly, but turned his attention back to Windswept when Drift settled a bit. "Have you ever been there when meditation goes unpleasantly?"

"Yes." Windswept's optics had yet to leave his mate. "Drift warned me to stay well back when it happens. After the first one I started staying in the room though, watching as best I could in case there was something I could to help, or protect him from himself."

"I'm glad that never happened," Wing's wings twitched in relief. "I doubt he'd have forgiven himself for damaging you. Was it common?"

"It came in spells, when it did. Thankfully not very often. Mostly...mostly when something happened that reminded him of losing you."

Those times when not even Windswept was enough to ease the pain, and the blue mech had resigned himself to watching miserably until it passed.

Wings twitched in a mixture of regret and intense pleasure. "I know that shouldn't please me, but it is nice to know I was missed so much. I've missed him terribly ever since my first memories of him returned."

"That must have been disconcerting, having your memories come back like that." Windswept said, attention turning back to Wing, curious.

The jet hummed. "Less than one would think. Primus allowed me to awaken with the knowledge that I was a returning spark that would mature into my former function and remember as the vorns passed. It was more disturbing to know I should know something, or have it be familiar, but not know from what or how."

"I can see how that would be frustrating."

Wing nodded and extended his field again, brushing Windswept's with an offer of friendship and affection. "It was. It was quite a relief when I finally remembered how to reach New Crystal City. It was a shock to see it on the surface though. I never thought Dai Atlas would risk that."

Warmth was returned through the field contact, acceptance of the offer being made. "Returning to find Drift gone could not have been easy either."

A shiver passed through Wing's frame as pain-loss-hopelessness torn through his field. It was still far too fresh a pain to suppress easily, even with Drift now in the room with him.

"No, it wasn't," Wing murmured, struggling to center himself and not burden the other with his out of date grief. "I keened until my vocalizer broke. Even that wasn't enough. My spark wanted to extinguish. I left the _Well_ to return to him and he was gone."

Apology. Windswept moving closer without thinking in a desire to ease the pain he had caused, a desire he had never felt before for anyone but Drift.

Wing didn't think either as he accepted the comfort, the apology, his arms reaching to wrap around Windswept. "Not your fault. Not a secret. I'm still struggling to not be afraid he's going to vanish, the hallucination of a hurting, lonely spark. It'll be easier when I don't think I've imagined his return every time we aren't touching."

The blue mech vented roughly at the first brush of physical contact, optics flickering with the initial tension in his frame. Then he forced himself closer.

Wing was not a stranger. Wing would not hurt him. He had to face this eventually. And...it might help them both.

With the small sign of acceptance Wing pulled him flush and buried his face against Windswept's neck as he trembled against memories that were still an agony.

The pain and the need overruled Windswept's discomfort quickly and his frame molded itself around Wing, not just allowing the contact but welcoming it. If neither of them could touch Drift at the moment then they could hold each other. Fields meshed and settled, both mechs highly tactile by nature and taking comfort from the touch of one close to their love, since they couldn't have their love at the moment.

Gradually Wing collected himself and relaxed. "Thank you," he murmured against Windswept's neck.

"Thank you." Windswept replied, relaxing into the touch he had been needing more that he realized. Carefully he shifted around to better keep on optic on Drift without breaking any of the contact. "Who will train him?"

"I'm going to argue for it," Wing sighed, snuggling in close and shifting so Windswept was comfortable as well. "I did begin his training, so technically the fact that we're lovers doesn't matter. Normally you shouldn't train someone you're that close to. But unlike then, I'm also much younger by law, and haven't passed more than my Knighthood trials. I should be a rank higher before I take on an Initiate."

"Are there others who can work with his...temper?"

"Several, on both sides of the spectrum, but if they won't allow me to train him, I'm going to ask that my creators do so. They are the best the order has."

"Will they?" Windswept looked at him, hoping everything would work out well.

A small snicker escaped Wing as he nuzzled the smaller mech in good humor and general affection. "They're my creators, of course they will. They want him trained to be the best so I have a long functioning this time. And to make sure he's good enough for their precious resparked youngest creation."

"He is." Windswept murmured, sure of this as he defended Drift. A fleeting thought sent and edge of fear through his field, quickly smothered.

"Windswept?" Wing focused on him, the flicker too fast for him to fully catch the reasoning behind. "There is nothing to fear in this city. You're safe."

"What of me?" The blue mech asked softly, wilting slightly. "Drift is a warrior. He will become a Knight. I...I am no fighter."

A flicker of confusion made it to Wing's field before he understood. "Ah, no need to worry. You don't need to be a Knight or warrior to be the mate of one ... or two." He placed a familial kiss on Windswept's forehelm. "Drift's just ... well, he's _Drift_ , and neither of my creators were too keen about him, much less our relationship, last time. They want to make _sure_ I won't get hurt again, even if they know that it'll hurt me if they try to stop us."

Comforted, Windswept leaned into the jet a little more. "And you? What do you want of me?"

Wing hummed thoughtfully. "I want you to be part of what Drift and I are building. I want you happy. I'd like a chance to court you, not just as Drift's mate, but for yourself."

"Court me?" Honest surprise shone in Windswept's optics as he looked up Wing.

"Of course," Wing pouted a bit. "What kind of mecha tries to form a triad without courting the others?"

"A what?" Confusion swirled through Windswept's field. Not rejection...just not understanding.

"Triad, a trine where the majority are grounders," Wing elaborated. "A three-way bonded group."

"Bonded?" Out of everything that was the last thing that Windswept was expecting. Something that the never even hoped for.

Wing and Drift bonding he had expected, even before the discussion with Axe. For himself... his highest hope had been that the pair would allow him to stay, maybe even both grant him the honor of mate status.

"Drift loves you, I like you already," Wing chirred with a pleasant rumble of his turbines. "It'll be vorns, if not centuries, but I don't see any reason yet that the three of us won't be that close. I want to try. Will you let me try to court you?"

"Drift-" He let that thought go for the moment in favor of answering Wing's question. "Yes."

"Thank you," Wing trilled happily, his short, slender wings fluttering with pleasure. "You won't regret this."

Windswept only prayed he was right as he snuggled against the larger mech, momentarily distracted by the motion of the wings. When they settled, he realized he was snuggled closely in Wing's embrace and it felt good. The jet's field was soothing, happy in a core way that Drift simply wasn't capable of, and even with the bit of arousal that seemed a permanent fixture for Wing, it didn't feel threatening.

With a quiet sigh Windswept found the rest of the tension he hadn't realized was binding his frame drain away, field spreading out in open welcome that was embraced with intense joy and a deepening purr as the pair settled in, content to watch over their lover for the time being and get used to the idea they wasn't just Drift now.


	14. Penance for a Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Codes:** Partner Rape (Drift/Wing Penance)

Drift's optics gradually glowed to life after several joors of meditation, and it didn't take reading his field to know he was _disturbed_.

His expression had the immediate attention of the two mechs cuddled on he berth, their quiet conversation ceasing the moment they noticed he was conscious of his physical surroundings again.

"Drift?" Wing was the first to speak as he uncurled from his position with Windswept.

A low huff of agitation greeted the question, a sound both mechs recognized as Drift deflecting distress with anger.

Windswept slithered free of Wing, sliding from the berth and approaching the agitated mech warily. He had seen Drift upset before, but nothing quite like this, and as much as he wanted to soothe that distress away for the first time he wasn't sure what to offer. Drift brushed the confusion away as he reached for the smaller mech and pulled him close, all but onto his lap.

Their fields intertwined enough for Windswept to catch a sense of the source, though it still didn't help him much to know that whatever Drift had understood of his penance _frightened_ him.

"It won't be that bad," Wing tried to be reassuring. "I've been through them all. You're strong enough to survive it."

"I doubt you dealt with this one," Drift's plating rattled faintly. "It wouldn't bother you."

A moment of silence as Windswept wrapped himself around Drift, frame and field encompassing the larger mech with the promise of support and unshakable devotion and belief.

Wing simply nodded his acceptance of the statement and put a supporting hand on Drift's shoulder. "When you are ready, you can show Dai Atlas what you were shown. It is his interpretation that is final."

With a deep draw of air, Drift nodded. He gently touched his forehelm against Windswept's before nudging the blue mech to get up. "Let's get this over with."

Frames were swiftly untangled, though Windswept reattached himself to Drift as they left the ship, Drift between the blue mech and Wing.

"Is he still at home?"

"Yes," Wing murmured, smoothly guiding the ground-bound pair to his creator's quarters.

Drift pinged the door, knowing the giant blue triple changer was expecting him.

He might not have been expecting the parade that made it's way in when the door finally opened, but if he was surprised it didn't show.

"You seem disturbed," he looked at Drift after the door closed.

"Not often I volunteer for something like this," Drift pointed out with a grumble of his engine.

Dai Atlas raised an optic ridge and motioned Drift to the meditation platform. "Share what your Great Sword told you." He said as they knelt.

Wing put a gentle arm around Windswept to keep him from following as Drift knelt in the meditative pose across from Dai Atlas. There was a moment of hesitation before Drift offered his data cable, the memories already cued up for transfer.

The two observers watched in silence, Windswept leaning into Wing without a thought about what he was actually doing. Somewhere in all of this the jet had crossed a line, breaking through the wall of fear Windswept had erected between himself and the rest of the world.

In this new place where Windswept had little idea of what was going on and couldn't always look to Drift for guidance as he had before Wing's presence was turning into necessity, backed by the growing personal desires that Windswept had yet to acknowledge forming in himself.

Curiosity flared in Wing's field when shock crossed Dai Atlas' features. The leader quickly settled himself and focused on Drift as he unplugged them. "You have the fundamentals of your Great Sword's demand correct. The details are for your ... partner."

The giant's gaze landed on his creation. "Wing, step forward. This needs to be yours to oversee."

The white jet blinked, then walked over to the pair, settling next to them. Golden optics met red curiously as a data cable was offered. He plugged in without hesitation, accepted the datapack ... and blinked again as his field blanched in distress.

"That is why it must be you," Dai Atlas said softly.

Slender wings fluttered in distress and agitation. Wing settled back, looking at Drift. "Not what I was expecting..."

"It wants to make a point I will never forget," Drift tried to shrug, but the motion didn't really make it. "Get this over with?" he looked at his lover, the only mech he could _let_ do this and not fight for his life against.

The white jet nodded, trying to get his wings properly folded again. They kept fluttering and flaring out from their tight tuck as he and Drift stood.

When his turn brought him to face Windswept, Drift nearly _quivered_.

"I'd ... rather you didn't watch this," he managed after a moment to gather his own wits.

Confusion swirled in the small mech optics, already bright from the distress spilling over from the Drift and Wing. Fear joined the whirlwind of emotion in his field. "Wing...will be with you?"

Drift could only nod.

Windswept looked at him, trying to understand as his entire frame started to tremble. "If that is your wish."

Wing made a sound low in his throat, looking at the small blue mech apologetically. He didn't like it any more than Drift did, and he could guess how Windswept was feeling.

Without hesitation Drift reached out and drew him close, comforting as best he could. "Much as I don't want you to be alone, it's better if you don't witness this. Is there _anyone_ you've made a connection to? Anyone you can stay with for a few joors and feel safe?"

Windswept shook his head, struggling to regain control. The only other mech he felt safe around was the one other mech who was going to be unavailable for the ordeal.

"What about our quarters?" Drift suggested. "Try to recharge, or read something."

Fear. Pain. Doubt. Confusion. Anger.

Then numbness as Windswept slammed the lid on all of his emotions, locking them away, and blank optics refocused on Drift. "I'll be fine."

It wasn't a good solution, but necessary in the moment. Necessary to see Drift through this.

"You are not fine," a deeply protective rumble came from Drift's engine. "You're _angry_."

Wing's wings fluttered uneasily. This was going to be hard on everyone, even though Windswept was not participating or watching. The jet eased closer to the other two.

Golden optics turned toward the watching Dai Atlas. "Will we be required to use one of the penance chambers?"

"No," the blue triple changer shook his helm. "Though I do recommend it to avoid tainting one of your living spaces with the experience."

"Fine." Windswept repeated, struggling this time as he said it and drawing the numbness around him like a protective shield. 

It was still not enough to stop a moment of weakness. "Come back."

"I will," Drift promised with a kiss to Windswept's helm. "We'll recharge together."

A flicker finally. Hope, that Drift was speaking the truth. "I'll wait."

* * *

The white jet's wings twitched as he led Drift down into the lowest levels of the Citadel, under the chamber where the Circle met. This was where the more serious penances were undergone, the part of the Citadel where no one went unless they had to.

No one else was down there. The corridors echoed as Drift and Wing descended, and the tags on the doors marked them as being vacant. 

Glancing nervously over his shoulder at Drift, Wing made his way toward one of the rooms.

"I don't want this to be you, but he's right, you're the only one who _can_ ," Drift apologized in his own way. "I'd fight anyone else."

Wing managed a half smile. "I know. I still don't like it, but I do understand that." Inhaling deeply, he opened the door to the penance room, the lights coming on as he waved Drift inside.

The grounder paused just inside, taking in the simple metal cube, empty except for a cabinet on the far wall and attachment points on the ceiling and walls.

Drift shuddered, memories nearly as old as he was snapping into clear focus of rooms like this. Places he'd faced a few times as Drift, but mostly as Deadlock. He never came out quite the same as when he went in.

Wing gave the grounder a quick hug. "The sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can get out of here."

Drift could only nod, draw a deep intake of air and walk to the center of the room where he knelt between two securing points. His optics locked on a half circle welded into the floor in front of him. Once Wing bound his wrists, they'd be secured there.

It would leave him pinned between the three points, knees spread and elbows on the ground.

The jet watched for a moment, then moved over to the cabinet. His gaze skipped over the contents, ignoring the supplies for the harsher penances to land on the neat spools of cord used for binding. For a moment he hesitated, trying to decide which color would be appropriate, then picked up a pink spool and walked over to Drift.

His lover's optics were downcast, his wrists extended in offer. Even with Drift's field pulled tight, Wing could feel the fear radiating off him, hear the minute rattling of pristine white armor.

Submission.

Drift simply did not submit.

Slender wings dropped behind Wing's back. Kneeling down, he bound Drift's wrists, the binding elaborate and done under Drift's focused gaze. Once he'd finished that, he attached the bindings to the ring on the floor, pulling an unresisting Drift into position.

It was a delectable sight, or would have been if this weren't a penance; if Drift was truly willing and not simply consenting.

The soft sound of a valve cover sliding open startled Wing slightly.

Drift's helm lowered, bowed between his forearms, as he waited for the first touch.

The jet jumped ever so slightly at the sound, then settled back. Running a gentle hand down Drift's back, Wing stood, setting Drift's Great Sword in one of the brackets on the wall, setting aside his own as well.

Walking back over to Drift, Wing slowly dropped to his knees behind the white grounder, murmuring the ritual words of the penance under his breath, just loud enough for Drift to hear.

Drift trembled at the near-touch, struggling not to fight. His optics went dim and his field reached out, grasping at Wing's as an anchor in all this.

Wing bit his lip to keep from saying anything, knowing it was not permitted this time. He settled for stroking his hands down Drift's sides, meshing his field with the grounder's. One hand wandered down to slip a black digit into Drift's valve, stroking along the rim before sliding in deeper.

A low shudder and stutter of engine was all Drift couldn't hold back. Despite his best efforts, his valve was dry. It was simply too much to do. He couldn't be aroused. 

Light fingers stroked over Drift's frame, stroking over sensitive plates and dipping into seams, seeking all the places Wing knew would get the best response. His other hand continued to stroke the rim of Drift's valve, fingertips dipping inside to flirt with the sensor nodes until physical stimulation did what will could not.

The first slide of lubricant between finger and sensor node made Drift jerk sharply with the spike of pleasure. Shock flared out in his field as his circuits heated. It was small, but the pooling heat in his abdominals was different from any other time he'd experienced being taken.

Wing couldn't hold back a soft chirr, though he cringed a bit afterward, hoping a chirr didn't count as "talking". A second digit slid into Drift's valve, reaching deeper after more sensor nodes. 

Black fingers slid into Drift's hip joint, sliding over the circuits and the actuators.

A tremor that was almost accepted pleasure rippled Drift's plating, then a low shaky moan as knowing fingers rubbed along very rarely touched sensors. The valve may have been new, but it was standard enough for Wing to know what to touch and how.

Leaning down, Wing nipped along Drift's back armor, his hand busy with the grounder's valve. Every sensor in reach got its share of attention, stroked and kneaded and stimulated by nimble fingers.

He felt the resistance in Drift, the fight not to respond. Like every penance Wing had been part of, the desire to atone was never without contest from the desire to avoid being hurt. He could feel it in Drift's field. The grounder was more than strong enough to shred his bindings in a nanoklik. As always, a cord was symbolic, not physical restraint.

Drift and Too Pure For This World were both struggling with _Loss_. Loss of control. Loss of a bonded. Loss of respect. Loss of understanding.

The loss of everything that mattered to them, or so they thought.

Humming wordlessly, Wing nuzzled against Drift's back, nipping along the seams, the edge of white armor where it joined the black. His hand slid into Drift's valve as far as it could go, fingertips brushing over the deepest sensors, while his other hand roamed down to Drift's knee joint, sliding over the dark thigh armor.

This time the moan was deeper, more resonant, yet the distress and hatred in Drift's field only deepened.

A strong but gentle hand slid inward, brushing along the spike cover in a silent request that was granted. Yet even as his spike began to slide out and pressurize, a sob struggled free from Drift's throat.

Wing's field wrapped closer around Drift's, trying to reassure the grounder as best he could. He did not want to see Drift hurt. Crooning softly against Drift's back, he ran his palm gently over Drift's spike, base to tip, cupping the tip for a moment before sliding his hand back down.

This time the shudder was of real pleasure, old and familiar, the kind that Drift took comfort in. "Want to give you everything like that," he murmured, only half aware of his words.

The response was a chirring hum as Wing nuzzled a seam, then made an inquiring noise, asking without words if the white warrior's sensor net was turned on.

Penance or not, nothing said Wing couldn't make it as pleasurable as he could.

A flare and unsteady nod answered, Drift forcing himself to _believe_ that this would somehow be good, that Wing would never hurt him, that this was _worth_ the hurt it was going to cause.

Wing vented across Drift's back, sending warm air skirling across his plating, over the sensitive plates and seams, trailing his lips over the most sensitive places. Dark fingers curled around Drift's spike, kneading and stroking along its length. A third digit slipped into his valve, all three spreading out and sliding slowly along the walls.

This time the moan was very real, the rev of Drift's engine one of desire.

Submission. He could do this. For Wing, for Too Pure For This World, for the _future_. He could do this.

Drift's helm lowered until it touched the floor, his frame trembling in the mixture of distress and arousal that was unique to this situation.

The hand on Drift's spike settled into an easy rhythm, twisting slightly over the nodes, increasing the stimulation. The pad of Wing's thumb stroked over the tip, over the sensitive nodes clustered there.

The white jet's body shivered as he finally released his own spike, though he kept it away from Drift for the moment. He didn't want to hurt his lover, would never hurt him. His fingers glided over the nodes of Drift's valve again and couldn't even express how grateful he was to feel enough slickness to make penetration smooth and easy. 

Drift's ventilations picked up. His hips rocked lightly into the hand stroking his spike, only to press into the fingers in his valve as well. It was an effort, but he forced the association. Wing and his valve did mean pleasure.

He couldn't deny it was also submission ... and abruptly Drift's entire frame jerked as his attention focused on his bound wrists, his position, on how completely helpless he was.

A strangled, pleading keen for escape escaped his vocalizer before he focused back on his interface systems and the pleasure there.

Wing leaned his chest against Drift's back, pressing his nacelles against Drift's spaulders and revving his turbines. Tilting his helm, he nipped and licked at the back of Drift's neck, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the grounder's valve, bringing his hand up to lick the lubricant from his fingers, purring at the taste. Lining up his spike, he sheathed himself with one swift, smooth thrust.

The sound that Drift made was something between welcome and denial. His valve contracted hard, trying to eject the intruder, though it only made the pleasure more intense for both of them. A sob of denial escaped him as his frame trembled.

Wing crooned in Drift's audial, his free hand stroking slowly over the grounder's chest and torso. Tilting his helm, Wing nuzzled against one spaulder, shifting his hips to shift his spike in Drift's valve. It squeezed tightly again, drawing a low moan from Wing. It was an exquisite sensation, but tainted by the knowledge that the mech under him didn't want it. Pleasure flared in Drift's field, right along with shame.

"Open your optics," Wing forced himself to order. That had been clear as well. Drift wasn't allowed to retreat into his processors as he so often did to survive assaults.

The jet's field expressed his own distress at this whole ordeal, along with the knowledge that once it was done, that was it. The Great Sword would be satisfied and they wouldn't have to repeat the experience.

Wing revved his nacelles higher, starting to move in Drift's valve, settling into a rhythm that matched the one set by his hand on Drift's spike.

Optics locked on his bound wrists, Drift trembled, letting go a little more. Unlike previous times, he would overload to this. It was part of the deal, part of the humiliation and loss of control. Maybe even a key part.

Physically, it was intensely good, enough to begin wringing low moans and the occasional hard rev of his engine from Drift's trembling frame. Wing knew how to pleasure a lover like no one else Drift had been with and was using all of that knowledge to end the penance quickly.

It didn't make it any less torturous inside Drift's processors as he struggled with the pleasure, the building overload, his frame experienced against his will.

Despite that, the lubricant was thick in his valve as it relaxed and began to work the thick spike sliding in and out in a maddening rhythm.

Wing picked up the pace, burying his face against the back of Drift's neck. His nacelles revved against Drift's spaulders, sending the vibrations right into his sensor net. His free hand slid into a seam along Drift's side, flirting along the edge of where the white armor joined the black.

As the pleasure built to an undeniable level Drift began to rock back into each thrust, his helm falling downward once more as the trembling shifted to an expression of pleasure rather than distress, though it did little to ease the sensation in his field.

Drift was losing, knew it, knew it had to happen, and couldn't help but fight to the bitter end.

The jet let out a soft whimper against Drift's back, his own overload building. He slowly increased his pace, shifting slightly to adjust the angle, thrusting in as deeply as he could. The hand on Drift's spike matched the pace set by the jet's hips, his other hand sliding up Drift's chest to his shoulder, sneaking up to caress the sensitive finials on Drift's helm.

A squeezing twist of Wing's hand on his spike as Drift's hips thrust forward ended the grounder's resistance. With a roar that was as much pain as pleasure his frame was pulled from his control, hot transfluid erupted from his spike. His valve tightened, the overload charging the already sensitive valve until it drove Drift to a second overload before the first had even ended.

The tightening of Drift's valve around his spike set off Wing's overload. He keened against Drift's neck, his wings flaring out, body shuddering against Drift's. For a long moment, he stayed where he was, draped over Drift's back, then slowly peeled himself away, reaching to release the bindings.

Even free, Drift didn't move for a long time. Not until the ozone had dissipated and his frame cooled. He wasn't sure if he could even face his love yet. So focused on that he didn't even realize he was trembling hard enough to cause his plating to rattle.

Wing made a soft sound, scooting back a bit, away from the grounder. He too was shaking, hard enough that when he tried to retrieve his Great Sword he fumbled it, barely catching it before it hit the floor. His wings were half flared with distress, and he was making a very faint whimper, low in his vocalizer.

"It'll be okay," Drift's voice startled him. A glance over his shoulder showed that the grounder hadn't moved much, only brought his knees forward to tuck them under his chest so his aft lowered. Hands had come in as well, but only minutely. It didn't take knowing the mech to realize that he wasn't prepared to move yet, much less face the outside world.

Wing managed a faint, tremulous smile, but the shaking didn't subside. The jet returned his Great Sword to its place on his back, torn between staying with Drift and bolting.

There was a brief moment of indecision before Drift lifted his helm, his optics on but largely unseeing. "Wing...."

Plea for comfort, for reassurance, for the only mecha he _trusted_ enough to witness his weakness.

That decided the white jet. On shaky legs he eased over to kneel beside Drift, cautiously wrapping his arms around the white grounder, burying his face against Drift's neck. The whimper slowly changed to a distressed keen as their fields meshed, pain and a cacophony of other emotions echoing back and forth, amplifying with each cycle until something in Drift broke.

He twisted to press himself against Wing's chassis, chest to chest, and pressed his mouth against Wing's in a demanding, domineering kiss.

The reaction from the jet was almost a hiccup of surprise. His arms tightened around Drift's frame, holding him close, returning the kiss. Wing's slender wings were still trembling, rattling against his back armor and the sheath of his Great Sword.

Then Wing was being pushed back as Drift sought to pin him against the ground, his field demanding submission as much as his frame as a knee found its way between Wing's legs.

Wing's keen was fading, a soft chirr taking its place. He offered no real resistance as he fell back onto the floor, wings slowly flaring out, legs parting, granting access.

A low moan escaped Drift at the pliant willingness he was offered, the submission from the very mecha who had just used him doing much to sooth the humiliation burning in his circuits. His glossa pressed against Wing's lip plates as his spike cover rubbed against Wing's valve cover.

Wing's lip plates parted, letting out a soft moan. His valve cover obligingly opened, lubricant already seeping out to moisten the lining. Gentle fingers skittered lightly down Drift's back. His field was nearly glowing with welcome, with desire and relief.

The powerful grounder engine growled against him, Drift's field full of need as his spike cover snapped open and the spike, still covered with a thin sheen of his transfluid, pressurized to rub against the soft lining of sensor rich platelets around Wing's valve.

Wing arched against him, hips pressing into the contact, moaning into Drift's mouth. His turbines revved in response, nacelles humming against Drift's shoulders. Black fingers hooked into seams of Drift's backplating, curling around the sensitive connectors that would hold the white grounder's Great Sword.

Pleasure, this time pure and shared, began to take over the pain in their fields, but what did it for Wing the most was the way the humiliation in Drift's field was fading.

Forgiven. Wing trembled at being _forgiven_ so quickly.

"Mine," Drift growled, his need to regain control bleeding into a possessiveness he did display often as he shifted his hips and drove into Wing's valve with a need that was only faintly physical.

Wing made a sound of agreement, tilting his helm to nip along Drift's jawline, palms gliding down Drift's back and sides, shifting one leg to stroke his footplate along Drift's shin. He let out a gasping moan as he was penetrated, subsiding into a delicious shiver, pressing into the contact. He could feel the way his response soothed Drift even more, the distress at needing to _take_ fading as it sunk in for Drift that Wing welcomed it to his very core.

Drift's hips pulled back and drove forward, thrusting deep into Wing's valve until their interface plates ground together in the tiny rocking of Drift's hips.

Wing writhed under him, golden optics shutting off, helm tilting back to bare his throat to Drift's sharp, nipping denta. He lightly scraped his fingers down the seams of Drift's back armor, curling one ankle over Drift's hip, pulling him closer. They moaned and ground against each other, the pleasure building entirely too fast. Flared wings trembled, begging to be touched and stroked and stimulated.

Despite the need to be dominant to an unnatural level, it was a silent request that Drift was eager to fulfill. He braced himself on one outstretched hand, using Wing's leg-embrace as a counterbalance for his short, strong thrusts. His free hand stroke the trembling appendage in reach, squeezing and petting in time with his thrusts.

The sound Wing let out expressed sheer bliss, his wing pressing into Drift's hand. Gentle hands migrated to Drift's spaulders, seeking out the best places to touch, the most sensitive sensor clusters lurking under the white armor. Wing's nacelles whined, revving high, his whole body vibrating, warm air gusting from his vents to curl around Drift's body and mingle with the hot air the grounder was expelling.

"Mine," Drift's voice was softer, the tone less demanding, but the claim was no less firm against Wing's bared throat. His field was hot with pleasure, energy already crackling between them while his hips thrust deep and hard, rolling with every motion to run against as many sensors as possible.

"Yours," Wing managed to gasp out in response. "Oh!" He arched his back, rolling his hips into each thrust, driving Drift's spike in deeper, as deep as it could go. He clawed blindly at Drift's back, fingertips scraping over sensitive plating. It was enough to make Drift shudder and moan.

Without thinking Drift rolled into Wing's motions, his moans turning into growls as each thrust brought him closer to a now-inevitable and very welcome overload.

Wing panted, hands running over every inch of Drift's armor he could reach, dipping into seams and gliding lightly over circuits. He could feel the overload building, threading through his systems, rising into an unstoppable wave of pleasure that crested with the rush of hot transfluid and Drift roar above him. Their meshed fields roiled with the welcome bliss and loose energy that jumped from one frame to the other.

Wing arched his back, crying out Drift's designation, his valve tightening around Drift's spike. Energy danced over the complicated contours of his armor, over his outstretched wings, between the points of his audial flares. The enticing sight was lost on Drift, who was caught in the throws of his own overload, wild flares of energy dancing along his own frame.

Drift's hips continued to twitch, rubbing his spike inside Wing's valve even as the pair collapsed, gasping for cool air and trembling against each other in release and relief.

Wing was purring audibly, wrapped around Drift like a second layer of armor. He was pressed as close to the white grounder as he possibly could, reveling in the warmth, desire and _want_ against him. He never, _ever_ expected Drift to respond like this. How could he? He'd _raped_ his mate. As penance or not, it was as personal an assault as they came, far worse than a simple beating.

"Never letting you go," Drift murmured, holding him tightly.

The jet's arms tightened. "Not letting you go, either," Wing murmured. "Mine."

Drift trembled at the words. For the first time in his entire functioning they weren't something to fight against, they were a welcome thing, a statement of Drift's importance, rather than his subordinate position to another.

Wing may have heard the door open, but didn't care enough to respond.

Drift, however, stiffened with a low, dangerous growl as he shifted to glare over a shoulder at the giant intruder.

Axe simply raised an optic ridge at the growl but didn't respond other than to stop and relax against the doorframe.

Wing mumbled something, clinging tighter, if that was possible. Finally, he shifted enough to blink over Drift's shoulder. Recognizing Axe, he froze, optics widening at his chuckling creator.

"I must say that's a new way to center yourself," Axe smirked at the pair.

"Should've known you'd be watching," Wing grumbled, riffling his wings. He made no move to let go of Drift, merely glowering at the big black mech.

Axe simply smiled a bit wider as he took in the protective pair. Yes, they would make for a _fine_ leadership of the Order when he and Dai Atlas finally decided it was time to step down.

"Are you centered fully?" Axe asked more seriously.

Wing tilted his helm, then looked at Drift, lifting his optic ridges in question.

"I'm ... close enough," he decided. Truth was he was very rarely centered, not the way the Knights meant it. But he was close enough to be safe in public.

Wing smiled, finally, reluctantly loosening his hold on Drift's armor, his wings folding to his back. He made a soft sound as Drift's spike slid from his valve, the cover sliding closed as he detached from his lover, sitting up slowly. Drift took a bit longer, his spike displeased with the idea of stopping but eventually complying.

"The first door you passed coming in is a wash rack," Axe said simply, relieved to the point of almost being giddy that they were still touching right now. "I recommend using it before returning to your quarters."

"Good idea," Wing murmured. He leaned forward to nuzzle Drift's cheek before climbing to his pedes, wobbling a bit.

Drift caught him by the arm as he stood, though he wasn't that much more steady on his pedes. "Not done with you," he growled quietly into a commanding kiss.

With a chuckle Axe left them, confident that Wing would comm him when it was time for Wing's penance for the violence against a fellow Knight. For now though, allowing the couple to reconcile was more important. Wing was gaining more balance and relief from Drift's contact that he could from any penance.

Wing fluttered his wings at Drift, extending one to stroke the tip down Drift's arm. "Oh, really?" His voice had deepened to a purr, gold optics half-lidded.

"Not even close," Drift confirmed, his hands moving down Wing's frame with a hungry touch before he tugged his love to retrieve his Great Swords, then to the door. "Especially since I can't touch Windswept anytime soon."

Wing followed without any hesitation, wings flaring partly open in anticipation. "You're more than welcome to touch me," the jet purred, making a beeline for the washracks. Drift let him get a step ahead, then moved close to play his hands along half folded wings, stroking and squeezing.

"I don't think I'll ever tire of that," Drift rumbled as he pressed against Wing's back.

"I certainly hope not." Wing moaned lightly, glad they were the only ones in that section of the Citadel, so there was no one around to give them odd looks. His wings flared out, leaning into the touch. His entire frame began to tremble as Drift's hands became more insistent, more focused on bringing Wing pleasure.

The door to the washracks opened to Wing's ping, but the inside but little more than a blur as Wing found himself pushed inside and pinned against the nearest wall by Drift's heating frame and the demanding mouth against his.

Wing returned the kiss eagerly, reaching out to touch Drift's frame, smoothing his palms over sleek white armor. His fingertips brushed against the Great Sword on Drift's back before sliding into a seam.

A core-deep shudder passed through Drift's frame, raw pleasure burning into desire as his spike cover slid open to release the quickly hardening length to rub against Wing's lower abdominal plating.

The white jet's valve cover almost popped open, lubricant dripping out to run down one thigh. Wing braced himself against the wall, curling one leg around Drift's hip, under the scabbard mounted there and practically begged to be taken.

"Yes," Drift hissed as he drove in deep, not even pausing to savor the sensation before pulling back to drive in again.

The white jet leaned his helm back, against the wall, his hands stroking up Drift's arms, curling around his body, holding him close. White wings flared out, twitching and fluttering against the wall as he rocked his hips into each thrust.

It was a mindless union, the thrust and rub and bite and building charge one of physical connection and soothing of hurt that had nothing to do with thought.

Drift's denta found a power cable in Wing's throat and bit down, then licked to sooth. It was very much an echo of what was happening to him; hurt and then soothed by one he cared about.

A low moan rose from the white jet's vocalizer. He hooked his fingers into Drift's spaulders, running the tips over the wiring and sensors underneath. They both trembled at the pleasure, the roiling knot of free electrons between their legs.

Then Drift roared his release and thrust up hard to bury his spike as deeply as possible for the first rush of transfluid.

Wing clung to Drift, his knee joint threatening to give way, clutching the white grounder for support. He keened his own release, the current crackling over his frame, dancing along his circuitry.

Scaldingly hot air pumped from their frames as they struggled to cool, the wall and Drift's locked knees the only things keeping them upright as they gasped and enjoyed the contact with another pleasure-charged frame.


	15. Comforting the Wind

Every step between Wing's quarters and his own, made alone, was heavier than the last. Even as well-cleaned up as they both were, there was no way to mute the sated nature of his field, or sweeten what had eventually led to it. But it was the state they'd had to leave Windswept in three joors earlier that worried Drift the most.

Ten steps between the two doors. So close, so far, but Drift wasn't going to let fear stop him from entering his quarters to find out what he needed to do to comfort his mate.

Their quarters were silent when he entered, nothing to indicate that there was another spark anywhere inside. 

A sharp intake of air, fear bordering on panic roaring up from his spark as he bolted to the berthroom where he'd left Windswept. If....

The blue mech was exactly where they had left him earlier, curled in the chair with a bookfile and a cube of highgrade within easy reach, neither of which had been touched. He didn't move or react to Drift's sudden appearance, helm hanging forward and optics dark.

A strangled keen escaped Drift's vocalizer as he rushed forward, a comm line already open and demanding Redline's attention.

Touch granted Drift the first signs of life- the faint vibration of quiet systems and the soft brush of venting air. Optics followed, focusing slowly on Drift, awareness registering as other systems came online.

Recognition...and nothing else. The blue mech's field remained flat, a state reflected in his optics.

::What is it?:: Redline's calm voice answered the panicked page.

::Windswept ... like he's been wiped or something,:: Drift struggled to keep the panic under control even as he opened a second line to Wing simply asking the mech to come, _now_.

::On my way,:: Redline responded.

"Drift?" A quiet seeking of confirmation of information.

"I'm here," Drift murmured, his field seeking to mesh with the largely unresponsive mech. "What _happened_?"

There was a skitter of pedes from next door. A moment later, a white jet skidded into the room, wings flaring out, golden optics wide. A much larger mech peeked around the doorframe; Dai Atlas had been coming for Wing and had been startled nearly out of his armor by his creation's sudden dash, but the big mech stayed outside.

"Waiting." Windswept murmured, optics sweeping over Drift, taking him in almost clinically. When there was no apparent surface damage he seemed to move on to other things. "Have you refueled?"

"Yes," Drift didn't resist the habitual check on his health. "Windswept, this is beyond waiting. You're shut down worse than I get."

Wing came over to join them, optics still wide, reaching out but stopping just short of touching Windswept's arm. The jet's other hand landed on Drift's shoulder.

There was a big mech's startled yelp from the corridor as Redline almost crashed into Dai Atlas, the Knight leader awkwardly hopping out of the way. The medic barely glanced at him, hurrying into the room. He got one good look at the gathering of distressed white next to blue and moved quickly to kneel next to the young mecha sitting limply in the chair.

Flat blue optics flickered over Wing, recognition obvious once again but offering no other reaction as they settled back on Drift. "Recharge?"

"I'm worried about you," Drift tried to focus the conversation. ::He said he is waiting. Doesn't look like he's twitched since we left him three joors ago.::

Wing got out of Redline's way, wrapping his arms around Drift and just holding the white grounder, golden optics watching the smaller blue mech.

::It looks like he shut down, almost completely,:: Redline commented, distracted by the scans he was running.

Redline met no resistance, Windswept's entire demeanor that of complete submission and his focus on Drift. "Why?"

Shock rippled the grounder's armor, his answer frozen for a moment as he tied to gather his wits.

"You shouldn't be shut down like this." Drift struggled not to yell. "Not normal. Not _good_."

"He can't take being alone," Wing whispered, his arms tightening around Drift.

Redline frowned. "This is his base programming, as deep as he could get without shutting down permanently."

The blue mech still seemed oblivious to what was going on around him, optics flickered as he searched for an answer and failed to find one. Emotionless as a drone he made another inquiry. "What should I do?"

Drift only just managed to hold back a distressed sound as the guilt hit the grounder hard. Even if it was in a roundabout way, it was his fault that he'd left Windswept alone, that he hadn't been able to stay close.

Instead he reached out to stroke Windswept's cheek plates gently as he commed the medic. ::What's the right answer?::

Redline shook his helm. ::I think all that we can do is wait for him to come out of it on his own. And try not to make it any worse.::

With a scramble in his processors for what _that_ mean, Drift continued to maintain physical contact. ::So ... like when we first met, without the interfacing?:: He struggled for an idea of what to do.

::It would be a good place to begin,:: Redline said as he stood. ::It is likely a psychological defense mechanism. Too much to cope with too quickly.::

::Can you wipe his memories of everything since his capture?:: Drift asked quietly.

Redline hesitated. ::I'm not certain that would be the best option. At least not for a while yet. Wiping _everything_ would mean also losing his memories of the city and of Wing.::

The jet trembled slightly at that.

Windswept waited patiently for an answer, still as a statue.

Finally Drift sighed. "Don't worry about it right now," he said gently. "Recharge would be good," he went with the easiest way to try and spend time with Windswept without stressing them both.

Redline nodded. ::Keep me informed.::

::I will,:: Drift promised.

Wing looked from Drift to Windswept, then slowly began disengaging from Drift. A brush of affection/thanks/apology came from Drift's field, then the intruders all retreated. Two to a penance, one back to his domain.

With a direction Windswept finally moved, sitting up in the chair and waiting for an opening to stand. There was a generic sort of contentment hovering around him now, the smoothness that was the result of programming flowing unimpeded.

"Come," Drift gently tugged Windswept to his pedes and into strong white arms. His field was bathed in relief at the improvement, no matter how small. "Let's recharge."

Instant compliance, total obedience, as the blue mech followed. No resistance, but nothing but frame and voice to identify the mech Drift held as his mate.

All of the small things that had made Windswept himself in the past were missing. The programmed adoration when they first met, the honest devotion after the programming was lifted, even the shy affection that Windswept had started to display since waking in New Crystal City. 

Gone.

It was enough to make Drift's spark constrict painfully. Wing may be the love of his existence, but in twenty-five vorns, Windswept had become dear to him. Especially now, with a near-vorn of celibacy completely sated, his processors were clear to be fully distressed by the state his mate was in.

This wasn't something he knew how to fix. He could fight, argue, interface, barter ... but he didn't know how to fix a broken processor.

He couldn't fix his own, much less someone else's. Still, if it made Windswept content, even a little, to be held and recharge together, that Drift knew how to do.

The blue mech settled on the berth with him willingly, though he turned his head to look at Drift. "You are dissatisfied."

"I'm concerned for you," Drift murmured as he leaned in to kiss Windswept's forehelm. "I'm ... guilty ... about being the cause of this."

"You should not be." Windswept informed him. "It is my duty to take care of you."

"It is my pleasure to care for you." Drift countered with a phrase that still sounded a bit weird, but like so much else involving his non-violent emotional protocols he'd long ago accepted that it would. "I want you to be happy."

"Happy." Windswept repeated, understanding what the word was supposed to mean, knowing what the signs of happiness were in others, but apparently failing to comprehend the association with himself.

"Yes, I want you to be happy," Drift nodded, drawing Windswept close and trying to wrap the blue mech in as much affection and safety as he could. "I care about you."

The blue mech snuggled against him, but more because it seemed to be expected of him than any personal desire for the contact. If Drift's words were registering as anything more than fact there was no sign of it either. Everything that Drift offered was merely accepted as it was.

There was no resistance as Drift lowered them to lie down, Windswept tucked against Drift's chassis and held close. This was as much as Drift dared expect to be to his mate, allowed to hold and comfort, but he never anticipated that he'd be a stranger to the mech.

"Recharge."

The direct order was met with the same obedience as every other instruction he had been given, Windswept's optics going dim and his systems quieting once more as he slipped into the ordered recharge, falling quickly into the deep rest his system was demanding.

Against his back, Drift snuggled close and settled in for a light recharge until Windswept booted up.

Joors later peaceful recharge was shattered by the struggles of a blue armored mech, whimpers and muted sounds of distress issuing from him as he struggled to escape the hold of his captor.

"Windswept!" Drift yelped as he let go with everything except his field. "It's Drift. You're safe."

Blue optics flashed online, startled at sudden freedom even as Windswept squirmed away, backing towards the edge of the berth in a panic.

Despite the pain he felt, Drift respected that panic, he _knew_ that panic. He forced himself to remain still and only reached his field out to brush against his mate's in a gentle offer of reassurance.

"You're safe here, Windswept," Drift spoke the designation slowly, carefully, emphasizing Windswept's status.

"Drift?" 

There was nothing flat in the field Drift's touched now. This one was a maelstrom of panic and confusion with an undercurrent of raw fear that only served to aggravate the reaction.

"Right here," he cautiously offered his hand, his other out of the way to offer an embrace if that was desired. "You're safe."

"Safe." Windswept repeated, trembling so hard his entire frame shook. For a moment he simply stared at the offered hand. "Where is here? What happened?"

"Here is our quarters in the Knight's Citadel in New Crystal City," Drift said softly. "The city where I learned to be a swordsmecha, where Wing is from."

"Wing." Windswept repeated clearly confused and distressed. His field shoved against Drift's, testing, before his entire frame was pressed against the white and just as quickly embraced with a spark-deep flood of relief in Drift.

The trembling had yet to subside, stress driving all of his systems to audibly protest the strain being placed on them. "What happened?" He demanded again, desperately needing to know, to fill the blank spaces in his processor. Gentle kisses stroked his forehelm as strong hands stroked his sides and back.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Drift asked, needing to know where to start.

"You-upset. Wing-" Recognition this time of the mech as someone Windswept knew, not a memory written by another, "Wing, distressed. Couldn't make it better. Not being allowed to come. You leaving. Alone."

Whimpers bled into a low keen of distress. Drift, gone, and Windswept unsure if he would return, not knowing what was going to happen. Not like watching Drift go into battle, confident of his mate's abilities and stubbornness and with a plan in place should something happen.

Alone, with _nothing_ if Drift failed to return to him. Waiting...waiting...

Drift vented softly and stroked the distressed mech to comfort him. "There was never a risk I wouldn't return," he promised. "That ... was part of being a Knight. Sometimes penance means leaving loved ones alone for a time."

The fear began to fade, and in it's place rose...anger. It flared through Windswept's field, bright and hot and not entirely understood as he clung to the other mech.

"What about?" Drift prodded gently, acceptance and comfort in his field in reply to the emotion he was intimately familiar to.

The blue mech struggled for words. It was everything. "Not understanding. Not knowing what to do. Not being able to fix it. Not-."

"Being in control," Drift smiled gently. "That's normal."

Met with acceptance and calm, the anger collapsed. If this was normal Windswept hated it. Hated how the emotion grabbed him, and then left him empty. "How?" He pleaded quietly.

"It is a rare individual that can easily accept being out of control. Most respond with anger to it," Drift could only shrug slightly as he continued to hold his mate close. "Just how things are. Existence isn't a nice thing sometimes."

The blue mech vented softly, going limp in Drifts arms, tired. After a couple of kliks he sighed and nudged gently at Drift's helm and offered a whispered. "Sorry."

"You're forgiven," Drift kissed his forehelm. "Just, next time, trust me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes." Windswept promised.


	16. Building a Trine

Windswept came online slowly, sluggishly. Warmth around him and in his field soothed the initial moment of panic that so often accompanied waking up anymore as Drift's presence registered. Optics still offline the blue mech snuggled against the warm frame, content to lay there for just a little longer. With Drift still content in recharge, there were no demands, real or habitual, on the blue mech. His processors wandered over the conversation they'd had, the panic and terror he had recorded but not registered in Drift.

He felt bad causing that, but part of his processors also registered how much he must mean to Drift to have caused such a reaction.

He snuggled closer, trying to come up with a way to make it up to the larger mech. He knew what pleased Drift, but... A shudder ran through his frame.

One hand moved to wander slowly over the warrior's armor. Doubt welled up in him, unsure. Fear that was unreasonable, part of him knew. But he didn't know how to deal with it...

He barely registered the gradually rising hum of Drift's systems powering up, the mech's attention drawn by distress in the field mixed with his and the touch that had always meant pleasure.

The mech pressed against him was lost in thought and himself. But at least he was feeling again, and thinking, and not panicking for a change.

"Windswept?" Drift's voice caught his mate by surprise. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." Windswept hurried to assure him after he recovered from his start, nuzzling at Drift. "Just... trying to think."

A low hum of understanding-acceptance answered that, then a kiss to the forehelm. "Would you like to have Wing over for breakfast?"

"If you would like him over." There was a faint hint of wariness behind Windswept's words, but welcome enough for the white jet.

"I do," Drift stroked his back gently, idly wondering when and how he'd lost so much of his edge before deciding he didn't care. "But if you need more time to recover...."

"Wing is good." The blue mech assured him. It would please Drift, and that reason enough for Windswept.

::Wing?:: Drift pinged his love, hoping he wasn't interrupting anything important. Wing actually had duties after all.

::Yes?:: Wing's response was prompt, curiosity in his voice.

::Are you available for breakfast in the next few breems?:: Drift asked, his tone and a few extra glyphs making it clear that fueling wasn't the only thing he was hoping to happen.

::Certainly,:: Wing responded. ::I'm just finishing cleaning my swords, and I have nothing else planned for the day.::

"Then we'll see you in a couple breems," Drift purred, speaking out loud so Windswept knew what was going on.

::I'll be there,:: the jet responded, letting an affectionate chirr through the commline before breaking the connection.

"He's coming then?" Windswept murmured, tilting his helm to look Drift in the optics.

"Yes," Drift nuzzled him, stroking along his back as he flooded his field with all the affection he felt for Windswept. "Remember, you're welcome to join us or not in whatever we do, as _you_ desire."

"Join you?" Windswept repeated, optics flashing as what was being said registered, and he nodded. "Thank you."

"Good," relief flooded Drift's field that his mate understood he was not expected to interface. "Come on, let's get the energon out."

Windswept nodded, nudging Drift once more affectionately before slipping smoothly from the berth to prepare things for Wing's arrival, few as they were.

A couple of breems later Wing knocked on the door to announce his presence. As soon as he'd finished talking to Drift a bit earlier, he'd flown off his balcony into the city on a quick "grocery run", and had brought a few surprises with him. He seriously doubted Drift had made it to town yet, and he was sure Windswept wouldn't have gone into town alone.

When the door slid open Wing was greeted by a kiss and embrace that left no doubt what Drift wanted after the energon.

Wing returned the embrace, chirring at the kiss. Golden optics turned toward Windswept, brightening when he saw the blue mech looking a _lot_ better than he had the previous evening.

"He is doing much better," Drift picked up the look and smiled warmly at his mate, encouraging him. "It really was being left alone and uncertain I'd return. We didn't explain well enough."

"Wing." Windswept greeted him, approaching shyly but showing just how much he had improved in the fact that he had approached at all.

Drift opened one arm, offering to embrace Windswept without letting go of Wing.

"With any luck, it will be a long while before anything like that happens again," Wing murmured. The jet offered a hand to the smaller blue mech.

The blue mech accepted the offer without question, snuggling into Drift's side as though he belonged there and reaching out after a moment in response to the offered hand, taking it with a mixture of apology and thanks. He knew that his reaction to whatever had happened to Drift had upset the white jet as well. It made Drift's engine purr and the white grounder was content to be pressed between his two lovers for a time.

"Energon?" Drift eventually suggested.

Wing nodded, reluctantly detaching himself from the other two. "I brought some extra treats with me," he told them, bringing a small pile of elegantly-crafted energon confections from subspace.

Drift's optics brightened with a sharp intake of air. "You didn't have to." He said, knowing it wasn't why Wing brought them.

The flare of surprise and excitement in Windswept's field was quickly buried as the small mech looked down, embarrassed. Once before had he been able to experience energon goodies, and he had never forgotten it.

And if the ones Wing was holding tasted as good as they looked....

"They're at least that good," Drift said, his engine rumbling in excitement as they settled on the couch in front of an entertainment center, though it remained off. All three were more interested in company than watching something.

Drift, snuggled between his lovers, snagged a couple bite-sized confections with jelled centers. With a smile of anticipation he offered a blue one to Windswept's lips.

Surprised, the blue mech's gaze moved from the treat to Drift's optics and back again before taking it carefully from the white mech's fingers with his lips and letting it slide back to melt on his glossa.

If the shudder of absolute pleasure that rippled through his frame wasn't enough of an indicator of Windswept's enjoyment, the field that flared with bliss would have given him away to the others seated on the couch.

"Good," Drift murmured, leaning over to nuzzle Windswept's neck. "They're a treat here, but not nearly as rare as out there."

"There are half a dozen confectioners and candy makers that I frequent," Wing supplied. "There are more, but I'd rather spend a little more and have them less often to get the _good_ ones. But if you just really want a quick treat, there are places I don't frequent. Probably a few that specialize in grounder-grade confections too."

Windswept hummed in agreement, purring from where he had melted against Drift. At this rate he was going to be too spoiled to settle for anything less than the quality that Wing had brought to share.

An arm around Windswept, Drift surrendered the bright green confection in his hand to Wing, only to find it pressed lightly against his lips. With a grin he slid his glossa out to curl around it, sliding sensually against Wing's fingers before taking the confection into his mouth.

The deep moan and roll of Drift's engine broadcast his pleasure as much as his field did.

Wing trilled softly, watching and enjoying as Drift savored the treat. He looked over the pile for a moment, then dug out a small box, opening it to reveal what it contained. "High-grade jellies... Hard to find even here. I managed to get to the confectioner's just in time to get some."

Drift shivered, his overbright optics going nearly white. The _desire-want-please_ roared through Drift's field, his frame. This was a treat he couldn't imagine, and he _wanted_ it.

"Why are they so rare?" Windswept asked, caught up in the feelings Drift was broadcasting and curious. He had read of such things, but never even seen one.

Wing smiled at him as he slid a glowing jelly between Drift's parted lip plates and basked in the pleasure and energy rolling off the white grounder.

"As I understand it, they are extremely difficult and time consuming to make," he explained, surrendering a small moan in response to Drift's pleasure. "The more potent the energon, the more dangerous and difficult the process. Between all the shops I frequent only two ever offer them. One has half a dozen boxes once every three orns. The other has a between four and ten once a decaorn.

"I was almost literally beside myself when I saw these boxes just being brought out." Wing tilted his helm toward Windswept, lifting an optic rim ever so slightly. Asking without words if Windswept would like to try one.

When optics full of longing only intensified by the bliss spilling from Drift met his, Wing picked one of the jellies from the box, offering it to Windswept. He held it so that the smaller blue mech could either eat it from his fingers, or grab it if he didn't feel comfortable with that just yet.

Windswept leaned across Drift, taking it with the same gentle caution that he had used when taking the one from Drift. He held it between his lips for a moment, nudging Wing's hand with his helm in thanks before drawing the treat the rest of the way into his mouth and concentrated on the jelly.

The outside was sweet, teasing his glossa with the flavor for a moment. The rest of the jelly began to melt and Windswept _understood_ Drift's reaction, melting in bliss against his mate.

Drift purred, his field expressing his pleasure at Windswept's enjoyment. Lazily he leaned forward and captured Wing's mouth for a deep, probing kiss that shared the last of the melting jelly with the jet.

Wing chirred happily into the kiss, his wings fluttering, partly spreading. One dark hand came up, stroking along Drift's spaulder and down his shoulder to his side. A low moan escaped Drift and he pressed shamelessly into the touch, pleasure rippling in his field as desire began to spiral out of control.

Noticing the motion Windswept squirmed back out of the way, though not entirely out of Drift's lap as he settled down to watch, content to be wrapped in the fields of the other two mechs as they enjoyed each other. Before arriving in New Crystal City, Drift would not have reacted to that touch. But now....

Drift's hands reached out, one seeking Wing's wing-joint, the other to rub a gentle pattern at the crook of Windswept's neck and shoulder that had always been particularly soothing to the smaller mech.

A white wing extended, offering more surface area and joints to be touched. The other wing stretched shyly out toward Windswept in silent offer. Wing hummed, running his hands over sensitive plating, hooking his fingers into a transformation seam.

The blue mech purred, tilting his helm to rub against Drift affectionately and reaching out to trace patterns on the offered wing, testing different pressures and combinations curiously.

Between them Drift stiffened and moaned, his frame arching lightly with pleasure that was still far too new to control easily. He wanted the pleasure, the rush of overload, and he wanted it _now_.

Wing trilled, the appendage stretching into Windswept's hands, revealing the smooth surfaces and the sensitive joints. The white jet leaned down, applying lips and glossa to a seam along Drift's chest, his fingers sneaking into a seam along one spaulder.

A keen that was of raw, wanton bliss escaped Drift as he pressed into the touch, his frame beginning to tremble.

Slightly started, Windswept pulled back, sitting up so that he could see better, and stared in surprise. He had never had Drift react like this, and the strength of the arousal flaring through the white grounder's field was strong enough to make him shudder uneasily.

A tiny flicker of apology came from Drift, then his attention and both hands were on Wing. His face tipped back, offering his throat as his engine revved hard, almost redlining in his pleasure.

The white jet's mouth glided over Drift's chest to his collar before moving to his bared throat, sucking lightly on a control cable. Wing leaned sideways, pressing one nacelle against Drift's spaulder and revving his engines. Black fingers went straight for the most sensitive sensor nodes he knew of, in the seams of Drift's other spaulder. Golden optics flicked to Windswept, promising an explanation once he finished with Drift.

It wouldn't take long, not with the way electricity was already licking up from Drift's plating. Shuddering moans were all Drift could manage as he wrapped his arms around his love and held on tightly.

Windswept settled down, easing a little farther away from the burning fields but taking it all in, noting everything that Wing did that earned a reaction from Drift.

One dark hand meandered down the white grounder's side to slip into Drift's hip joint, flirting with the underside of his hip scabbard, sliding into the joint to brush over the actuators and the hydraulics. Wing purred against Drift's throat, his engines revving higher.

The white grounder was trying to melt and stiffen all at the same time. Wing nipped a main energon line, then soothed it with a stroking glossa.

Drift howled, his frame locking in overload bliss of a kind too new to him to be anything short of terrifying, even though he was already addicted to it.

Wing purred, wings fluttering, watching with bright optics as Drift slumped against the couch. Settling back, he turned to look at Windswept and explain.

"When Drift was rebuilt here, Redline installed a _full_ sensor net. Drift's just stubborn about keeping it turned off," he told the blue mech. "I had to prod a bit to get him to turn it back on."

The blue mech thought that over, still shivering from the energy rolling off of Drift. Once it looked like the white mech was thinking again he asked curiously. "Did you not have one before you were rebuilt, or did you leave it turned off then too?"

It took a moment, but Drift managed to focus enough to answer. "If I did, it was never on. Factory workers don't need them, and neither do Cons. Expensive toys for the rich."

"All of us have them," Wing chirped, referring to the residents of the city and the Knights. "When Drift was rebuilt, it was done to the standards of New Crystal City. Sensor net and all."

Windswept hummed, thoughtful as he contemplated Drift's words. He had always had one, had been built with one. And had simply accepted Drift's explanation long ago that the warrior lacked one because of occupation. Now...

"Didn't matter that I didn't want it," Drift's voice turned icy, long-forgotten outrage simmered to the surface briefly. "Didn't even matter that I didn't want to be saved. That's one thing that isn't different here. Folks in charge think they have the right to dictate how everyone else functions."

Wing flinched back. His slender wings flared out once, then folded tightly to his back, shivering slightly.

The outrage drove Windswept back as well, the small mech cringing away. While what had been done to him angered Drift, Windswept could be nothing but thankful for the outside forces that had acted against the white grounders wishes that time.

A low huff from his vents and Drift smashed it down, hard. "Not angry at you."

The white jet relaxed, curling into Drift's side, his wings easing from the tight fold and shyly flaring out again to be stroked by black hands. Windswept took longer to settle, finally moving in to curl up against Drift's thigh and lean into the black hand that came down to stroke over his helm comfortingly.

"Sorry," the word was rough, unevenly said, but honest.

Contentment and instant forgiveness came from Windswept, the blue mech venting softly as he settled closer to Drift. After a moment of thought he lifted a hand, fingers gliding along a knee joint to tease at the joint to earn him a small shiver in response, along with a flare of arousal.

Wing eased closer, nuzzling into Drift, hoping to rekindle some of that desire that had been present before. Drift had hinted earlier that he'd planned on intimacy, far more than the tactile overload he'd had.

It was all it really took. Drift had no resistance to a willing Wing, and no wish for it. White lip plates met in a kiss that soon parted for glossae to stroke and caress. Desire, arousal, built quickly and smoothly in Drift again as easily as anger did.

The white jet slid his fingers down Drift's torso, skirting his spike cover before slowly slipping lower, to brush ever so gently against his valve cover. A sharp jolt of tension snapped Drift's frame taunt, though he managed to stop himself from grabbing Wing's wrist to pull him away.

A deep x-vent and ice blue optics met golden with a slight shake of Drift's helm.

Wing gave Drift that wide-opticked look, the tip of his glossa flicking over his lower lip. The jet looked down toward Drift's valve, then back up into blue optics, tilting his helm.

"Wing..." Drift's voice trailed off with a sigh before he pulled the jet close for a hard kiss. "No fingers, no spike."

Wing trilled his acceptance, reaching over to pick up one of the high grade jellies. Holding it lightly in his fingertips, he brushed it lightly down Drift's torso, his field humming playfully. Tilting his helm, he looked at Windswept, cocking an optic rim, flicking his optics down toward Drift's valve before looking back at the blue mech, silently asking if Windswept wanted to play.

A moment, then a slow, small nod as Windswept pressed closer to Drift. He... wanted. Wanted to feel Drift lost in bliss and wanted to be part of the reason for those feelings.

::I'll keep his hands busy, so he won't play rough with you,:: the white jet commed Windswept, showing Windswept the high grade jelly in his hand before sliding it down to circle Drift's valve cover, seeking entry.

Windswept purred, optics following the motion as his field flared against Drift, promising pleasure and full of anticipation.

An uneasy vent and Drift retracted the cover, watching with sharp, slightly on edge optics as the treat was gently slid inside him. Against _all_ sense, he shivered in pleasure and bit back a moan. The energy in the jelly made his valve lining tingle delightfully.

Wing withdrew his fingers and licked the lubricant off. He tilted his helm, yielding the valve to Windswept, before sliding back up to nibble at Drift's lower lip. Drift willingly accepted the distraction. He left enough attention to enjoy his mate's attentions, but not so much that he _thought_ about what was happening.

Windswept held back a moment, letting Wing move in and distract Drift before starting to move himself. Deciding to try out this new feature of his mate he took his time working toward the exposed valve, fingers and glossa testing the sensitivity of plating and seams.

Each little shiver and spike of pleasure, caused by his actions or Wing's, it didn't matter, only served to encourage Windswept.

With the first vent over his exposed valve platelets, Drift moaned deeply into Wing's mouth. His hands closed with Wing's, knowing exactly why they were being skillfully detained.

Wing shifted, settling against Drift's side, twining his fingers with the white grounder's. His glossa slid along Drift's, exploring his mouth, the jet purring into the kiss. The pleasure swirling in Drift's field was delightful.

Gentle hands came to rest on Drift's thighs, leaving no question as to what was making slow circles around his valve as Windswept worked his way closer.

The first taste of _Drift_ and energon jelly tore a soft moan from the blue mech, fingers flexing where they lay as the tip of his glossa tasted again.

Drift nearly choked on his moan, his frame trembling in remembered pleasure. Like using his spike, _this_ touch had never been anything but good. His mind flashed back to the first time Windswept had pleasured his valve and he trembled at the rush of anticipation at it.

Wing chirred softly, working his way along Drift's jaw to his helm, tracing the sweep of one audial finial from where it rose from Drift's helm all the way to the tip. It was very enjoyable to be part of this, to see and feel his hopes for the future where the three of them were lovers and together happening. Drift's moans and shivers were sweet, his pleasure and the way he spread his legs further apart, helm tipped back and optics off, _trusting_ Windswept not to hurt him, were bordering on a miracle to Wing.

Shared memories of pleasure as Windswept's glossa worked deeper, finding all of the sweet spots in the valve lining and lavishing them each with attention in turn. Every tendril of pleasure, every time Drift spread his knees a bit further or rolled his hips into the contact was a blissful welcome to the young mech who had feared he could never pleasure his mate again.

Moans and soft whimpers of desire rose to join Drift's, all three of the linked by deeply integrated fields and a joint desire.

Wing leaned closer, his nacelles humming against Drift's spaulders, his dark fingers gently kneading the white grounder's hands. His field wrapped fully around both Drift and Windswept, expressing his delight.

Windswept's glossa faltered for a moment, before the pressure of the still new field registered as a source of welcome comfort, even filled with such deep arousal.

Arousal that, at the moment, served to fuel Windswept's higher as the blue mech plunged back in, seeking the sweetness of the energon and the sweet cries of his mate in pleasure that he knew he could earn. It was a payment Drift willingly gave, his voice, his engine, his field offering up all the encouragement his mate was drawing from him. His fingers began to spasm around Wing, gripping him tightly as his pleasure threatened to crest, centered on a part of him that even in this moment was strange to feel pleasure from.

"Windswept...." Drift keened, right on the edge of bliss. His hips desperately sought to grind against something, the sensation that was always a part of good pleasure for him.

Wing tilted his helm, taking the tip of one audial finial in his mouth, sucking at it lightly. His purr never faltered, one wing spreading out to brush across Drift's chest as the white mech cried and shuddered, seeking that last bit to push him over the edge into blissful oblivion.

The blue mech could feel how close Drift was, a shiver running through him at the sounds of his designation falling from his mate's vocalizer. He shifted just a bit, driving his glossa in farther to find the deeper nodes and his hands shifted back to slip into hip joints.

The cries of pleasure steered him well, thrusting into the bucking roll of Drift's hips.

Drift's hands grabbed blindly for wings and back, then the familiar helm near his own to pull Wing into a searing, demanding kiss that poured all the aggression and desire and _need_ into the mech that could handle it right now.

It was the breaking point.

Against Wing's mouth Drift's moaning keen of need broke to a keening scream of overload.

The free energy brushing over his plating made him shiver, but the blue mech welcomed the rush of lubricant and energy, glossa working the valve until Drift's frame began to relax, slumping into the couch.

Only then did he pull back, glossa carefully licking clean the valve and surrounding area, purring softly as Drift untangled one hand from Wing's back to gently stroke Windswept's helm.

"Glad that still works for you," Drift smiled at him, content on one level and keenly aroused still on another. He turned his helm to kiss Wing again. "Have any plans for my spike?"

Golden optics sparkled brightly, the white jet's valve cover snapping open. Wing fluttered happily as Drift drew him into his lap, the grounder's spike already standing proudly.

With a throaty groan, Drift guided Wing's hips down, taking his time to enjoy the first slide of spreading the valve open.

The white jet let out a soft, sensual moan, leaning his helm back as he settled over Drift's hips, the grounder's spike sliding over the nodes in Wing's valve. Wing's hands stroked over Drift's chest to his shoulders, his nacelle pinions fluttering slightly.

Windswept slid farther along the couch away from the growing arousal between the pair and pulled his field in closer. The motion was smooth, an attempt to not be really noticed.

Despite the pleasure and the need building in him to tighten his grip on those lovely white hips and simply pound into his lover, Drift caught the shift in his mate and looked over.

The blue mech forced a smile. "Fine. Go ahead. Just too close." To close for _this_ , forced on him against his will not so very long ago by his memory, even if the mechs before him now were mate and willing lover.

Wing blinked slightly hazy golden optics at Windswept, making a confused, questioning chirrup sound. One wing extended toward the blue mech only to be caught and gently brought back in by Drift.

"He's not ready to feel this," Drift said gently with a thrust. "Takes time to recover."

The jet made a sound of understanding, his pinions flattening briefly. Drift's thrust drew his attention back to the white grounder, stretching his wings into strong black hands as his valve tightened and rippled, enjoying the stretch and rubbing against lubricant slick nodes.

Wing slid his hands along Drift's spaulders, the calipers of his valve rippling along Drift's spike in a complex pattern. Humming, he leaned down to capture Drift's lips, sliding his glossa along Drift's lower lip plate. He was offered entrance with a moan, Drift trembling with pleasure, the contact and the memories it stirred up in his processor.

Seven vorns was all they'd had, but so many incredible memories, so much intensity in that brief time. Seven vorns to change his fundamental outlook on existence.

With a small cry as that thought led to the pain of Wing's inevitable deactivation in front of him, Drift's mind refocused on the warm, very living frame in his arms to chase away the loss that had driven so much of his functioning after he left this world.

Wing wrapped his field around Drift's, expressing reassurance, love, and desire that was eagerly accepted. Chirring, the jet kissed Drift deeply and passionately, his fingers finding sensitive armor plates and a transformation seam to tease along. Drift's hips jerked up, his frame expressing pleasure in the way it had been hardwired by a too-long existence without tactile pleasure except from his spike.

Wing rolled his hips into the thrust, settling into a rhythm. His valve calipers rippled along Drift's spike, matching the thrusts. The jet's lips and glossa explored Drift's helm, throat, and spaulders, his nacelles revving, vibrating against Drift's chassis. It all combined to drive Drift nearly crazy, his pleasure building too fast and not yet fast enough.

"Wiiinnngggg!" Drift keened, his hips slamming upwards as overload caught him half by surprise as it washed through him.

The white grounder's overload triggered Wing's, the jet howling out Drift's designation as his valve tightened on Drift's spike, wings flaring out as far as they could and his back arching. 

Slowly, the white airframe relaxed again, wings folding down though they were still twitching from the overload, Wing leaning against Drift's torso, tucking his helm under Drift's chin, making no move to dislodge the white grounder's spike from his valve.

With a sedate nuzzle Drift found enough coordination to stroke Wing's back and wings. He also glanced at Windswept, checking on him and how badly this had rattled the younger mech.

The mech in question was curled at the end of the couch, as far away from the white pair as he could get without moving to the floor. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around as the smallest shivers of his frame revealed the extent of his discomfort.

"Windswept," Drift's voice reflected his regret as all the arousal drained from him.

Wing looked up, blinking toward the blue mech. What he saw made his pinions flatten against his nacelles, wings folding tight to his back. The jet finally slid off Drift's lap, settling on the other side of the white grounder.

A repeat of his designation roused Windswept from his retreat, optics focusing on the pair and registering the change in the other two. A change he had brought about.

Realization had him shrinking farther into his defensive posture. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I'll leave next time."

"Windswept," Drift shifted, his spike concealed behind its cover once more as he reached out for his mate. His field was drained of arousal, only concern and understanding in it as it brushed against Windswept's. "We shouldn't have. You seemed to enjoy what you did. Didn't think watching would freak you out."

Wing drooped, lowering his optics. "Never wanted to hurt you." He was torn between staying where he was or slinking back to his own quarters.

"Stay," Drift ordered, catching the sensation at the edge of his field.

"Don't go. Didn't hurt me." Windswept insisted. It was certainly not Wing's fault that Windswept had no self-control left. Drift had _needed_ that, something that Windswept could not provide and Wing could.

Feeling safe once more against Drift's side he reached around to touch the white jet's arm gently. "Thank you."

"It will get better, as long as you want it to," Drift murmured a gentle promise.

The white jet settled, managing to smile, albeit faintly, at Windswept. His shoulder pinions slowly rose from where they'd been pressed against his nacelles, wings loosening from their almost painfully tight tuck on his back. Wing leaned against Drift, cautiously stretching out his field to brush Windswept's while Drift held the blue mech.

Apology and trust answered his touch, acceptance trying to cover the lingering shame Windswept could not escape.

"Shu," Drift nuzzled Windswept gently. "No shame in being hurt by what happened to you."

Moving slowly, Wing added himself, carefully wrapping his arms around both mechs, not wanting to startle or hurt Windswept.

Calmed and reassured, Windswept made a point to nuzzle against Wing in welcome. "I know I can trust you," he sighed, trying to explain so that they could understand. "Know you won't hurt me. But..."

But when others arousal hit him, when he was faced with feeling that, hearing that, seeing it- he couldn't stop the memories that came back. It overruled the present, drowning him in then.

"I _know_ ," Drift murmured, his field expressing just how intimately and often he had learned that lesson. "Just ... don't try to heal the way I did, okay?"

"Please don't," Wing murmured, one wings brushing against Windswept's arm.

The blue mech relaxed, warm between their frames and fields. "I don't want to." And he was beginning to believe that the two mechs holding him wouldn't allow him to.


	17. Learning to Live Again

Slowly Windswept sorted through the events of the day as he and Drift made their way to the berthroom, focusing on Wing's visit. The winged mech was... confusing, to Windswept. Wing's acceptance of Windswept was something he was having trouble comprehending, his acceptance of Windswept's relation to Drift even more so. Wing had always existed as part of Drift to Windswept. He had never known anything else. But Wing had known another Drift, one before Windswept. Yet he seemed neither upset nor jealous of the blue mech's presence in Drift's existence.

The path of thought was distracting enough that Windswept didn't notice Drift move until warm lips pressed lightly against his own, clearly desiring without actually _demanding_ anything.

A split second of tension before Windswept relaxed, settling into the kiss as he settled into the field wrapped around him.

This was Drift. Drift was safety. Drift was caring and affection to Windswept, no matter what others thought they knew of the white mech.

Very gently, Drift's glossa slid out between his lip plates to caress Windswept's, silently asking for entrance, to deepen their kiss as Drift's hands lightly stroked sensitive blue armor.

A soft whimper escaped Windswept, the shiver running through his frame at the touch; physical evidence of internal conflict as his lips parted, granting Drift access.

A gentle exploration, kept unusually brief, and Drift drew his helm back slightly. "Too much?"

Windswept buried his helm in Drift's shoulder, venting softly as he pulled himself together. "Slow." He asked softly, apology in the next kiss, one he initiated himself with lips already parted in invitation.

With a shiver of tightly leashed desire Drift kept his touch light, massaging their lip plates together for a long, tender moment. His hands kept to Windswept's sides and back, the touch meant to comfort rather than arouse.

Only when he felt the tension begin to ease did he ghost his glossa across Windswept's lip plates before very gently slipping between them. A soft moan of welcome met him this time, Windswept leaning slightly into the contact as each element was reintroduced with a reminder of why it was _good_.

"I love you Windswept," Drift said softly but firmly, his desire to care for his mate trembling over every sound and touch. "I'll never hurt you."

Blue optics flared in surprise at the words, unexpected but longed for spark deep for vorns. The whimper this time was the sound of joy, confusion and sorrow. Trust in Windswept's field, always present but backed by the love held close to his spark for the mech who held him now. "Yours."

A faint tremor passed through Drift's frame. He took a step back, towards the berth as he claimed another kiss, this one a bit more intense. The mech in his arms was willing now, wanting in his own way to belong once more. Windswept easily allowed himself to be drawn to the berth, to lay down and welcome the heavier frame that had never given him anything but pleasure over him.

Another kiss, this one nearly normal in its intensity as Drift's field reached out to Windswept's, seeking to share the arousal, the pride, the care Drift had for his mate.

Alone, lost in the feeling that was Drift, there was no fear or hesitation. Only the sense of belonging that he needed so badly, and the new knowledge that he was more than desired, more than simply wanted or even needed.

Loved.

"I will never hurt you," Drift repeated as he slid towards the foot of the large berth and ghosted his fingers along the forward valve cover.

He never had. Drift was promising. Drift was _asking_.

Tension as Windswept's fingers dug into the padding of the berth, then relaxed as the valve cover slid away.

Drift was asking. Drift was offering. Love. Pleasure. Care and protection.

"Thank you," Drift whispered warmly, affection and promise in his field as he moved further down. He ran his hands along Windswept's tense but spread thighs, gently encouraging him to relax with sensual but undemanding touches.

Involuntary shivers ran through Windswept's frame at the touches, slowly fading as he relaxed with each touch, pleasure and trust overrode the memories of recent pain and humiliation. His optics flashed in shock at the feeling of a glossa oh-so-very-lightly circling the soft, perfectly repaired platelets around his valve.

"Drift?" Surprise, unsure but welcoming all the same.

"Mmm?" Drift hummed against the sensor-rich area before he licked in a slow circle.

"What-?" The question was interrupted by a soft moan at the sensation radiating out from the plating and warming his entire frame.

Drift chuckled, his glossa making another swirl, edging just a little closer to the entrance that was beginning to warm and slicken a tiny bit. "Wing thought it might be easier if we started with something they hadn't done to you. And after this morning...."

Hadn't done? No, they hadn't done this. There had been no idea of giving Windswept anything. Only taking from him what they wanted. His mate. Their pleasure. The rest of his functioning for their gain.

The next touch chased that all away, refocusing Windswept on the now, with his mate and _his_ pleasure, and the soft sounds that pleasure was drawing from him. The approval that was so clear in Drift's field as the glossa that could be so demanding turned its full attention to gently and thoroughly exploring Windswept's valve.

Drift was intent on making his mate cry out with pleasure until one of them couldn't stand it.

Freshly repaired but every bit as sensitive as it had ever been, the pleasure sparking from Windswept's valve soon had the blue mech keening softly, broken by soft whimpered calls of his mate's designation.

Adoration, awe flooded through Windswept's field, colored by sparks of pleasure every time Drift's glossa found a sensory node to tease in the valve lining. Just the idea that Drift would do this for him, would bring him pleasure in a way that did so little for Drift, reinforced the words Drift had said.

The pleasure, the desire was building quickly in Drift, and too soon he whined and lifted his helm. "Please, I want to fill you."

The ripple of fear in Windswept at the request was clear, but done and passed in the span of a sparkbeat. Shaking hands pulled a willing Drift up for another kiss, one to settle the blue mech before he agreed.

"Yours. Please."

Drift shivered and moaned into the kiss, long familiarity moving his hips into place and slowly pressing forward, sinking into his mate gradually, enjoying the feel of every sensor coming online individually.

It was not the same eager welcome he had always encountered, for not all fear could be countered with reason and words. But in the meshed fields was the trust and desire that existed for Drift alone, and the understanding that however uncomfortable it might be, Windswept _needed_ this.

Bracing on his forearms, keeping as much of their armor in contact as he could, Drift moved slowly, drawing his hips back with agonizing slowness and thrusting forward just as gently. His optics flickered, then turned off in his concentration, in the focus he needed to keep this pace against the building tide of arousal burning his circuits.

Soft whimpers gave way to small sounds of true pleasure, the slow stretching of his valve and the friction of their frames warming him, soothing the fear. The care he could feel touched something even deeper, brushing against his very spark, and Windswepts dark optics came online as he reached up, drawing Drift down for another kiss. The passion and heat that would have once been there was still missing, but the peace and love in gesture was enough. 

"Please. Want you."

A low, resonant groan rumbled up from deep inside Drift at the permission. His next thrust was stronger, though not nearly as powerful as Windswept knew the warrior desired. When Drift buried himself fully he shifted, giving Windswept enough warning that he planned to roll them over. The blue mech nuzzled at Drift, understanding as his frame went submissive and compliant to Drift's desires.

With a shiver Drift moved, settling on his back with his mate straddling his hips and their chests pressed together.

"Ride me," the white warrior groaned, asking more than telling as his hands sought out hotspots on Windswept's frame. "Want to feel _your_ pleasure."

For a moment Windswept hesitated, understanding what Drift was doing and seeking the strength in himself to give them what they both needed. Gentle hands settled on his hips, soft and encouraging, and Windswept gathered himself, rising and sinking slowly as he began to ride Drift's spike.

"Beautiful," Drift murmured, his optics locked on his mate.

"Yours." Was the soft answer, blue optics meeting Drift's and shining with the truth as Windswept shifted, valve rippling around the spike. Vorns of familiarity made it simple for them to drive the other's physical pleasure.

With a slight shift in the angle and relaxing the cables connecting hip to leg Windswept took Drift in all the way, pressing their interface panels flush. It also pressed the sensitive conical tip of Drift's spike into the very end of Windswept's valve, stretching the pliant material around the sensor rich space.

As always, Drift let out a cry at the jolts of pleasure it sent through his systems, triggering a storm of energy that very nearly broke his self-control.

"Yours." Windswept said again, shivering as he repeated the motion, Drift's pleasure his own as sensors fired in his valve. The control, even if it was a great deal just the illusion of control, was healing and strengthening.

"Windswept!" Drift gasped out, so very close to overload that it was all he could do to hold the strength of his thrusts in check.

"Go." Teetering on the edge himself, so lost in pleasure, in Drift, in the moment, that the moment was all that mattered. He wanted Drift, needed Drift, for himself as much as for the other mech.

A keening roar exploded from Drift's vocalizer as his hands tightened around blue hips and he thrust up once, twice, before the first burst of transfluid erupted to coat Windswept's valve in slick, viscous heat.

That Windswept's own keen of release was lost in the sound made it no less potent as he rode the storm of a joint release and welcoming the rush of energy through his entire frame. The locking of his frame, something he had been dreading, vanished in the surge of pleasure and release.

Spent, he fell across Drift, coming to slowly and actually savoring the pleasant tingles of energy still flitting through his frame. Turning his helm he nuzzled gently at his mate. "Thank you."

The damage wasn't healed, not by a long shot. There was a good chance he would never be comfortable with a stranger touching him ever again. But a small part of his world was right again, and all of the peace that came with that drifted through his field.

"Anything for you," Drift offered, and meant it.

"Love you." Windswept murmured, the strength and the truth of the simple words in all their complexity conveyed in his wide open field where his limp frame lay draped across Drift's, already practically in recharge as soft blue optics flickered and went dark.


	18. A Walk in the Park

Wing paced his quarters, wings twitching restlessly. The white jet was pondering how best to go about courting his two mates-to-be, knowing how skittish Windswept was. He wanted to do this well, and hopefully not frighten or hurt either of the other two mechs. But how to go about it...

It took him several joors to come up with an idea. And then another joor to be able to leave his own quarters and knock on their door, hoping Drift and Windswept were in.

The door slid open at a comm command from Windswept and Wing got to see what domestic looked like for them. Drift was meditating to one side of the large common room just inside the entry, Windswept curled comfortably on the couch with a bookfile resting on the arm of the furniture as he kept watch.

The book was forgotten at the sight of the white jet, light blue optics brightening in honest welcome. "Wing."

Drift was slower to respond, but that was expected. When ice blue optics lit and focused, they were followed by a warm smile of welcome on the life-hardened features. "Welcome," Drift's voice was rich with emotion, the inflections in the single glyph speaking volumes of just how glad he was to see his love.

The quarters were filled with a harmonious peace, a reflection of the current mood of those inside. Windswept slid from the couch with a warm smile directed at Wing. "Come in. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," the white jet replied. "I was wondering if... You two would like to have a look around the city? I know neither of you have gotten out of the Citadel to explore much yet, so I thought..." He trailed off, riffling his wings shyly and looking hopeful.

"Yes," Drift agreed, standing smoothly and sheathing Too Pure For This World on his back. "That would be a nice break."

Windswept's moment of hesitation was barely visible as he saved his place on the bookfile and laid the datatablet aside in a more secure location. Excitement at the idea had his optics brightening by the time he looked up again. "I would like to see more of the city."

The way Wing perked up revealed how nervous he'd been about asking. His smile was as bright as the overhead suns, his pinions slowly rising from where they'd been flattened down. "Is there anything in particular you would like to see, or would you like a general tour?"

Drift gave Windswept a tiny glance. "One of the parks?"

"Is there a nice park?" Windswept asked, looking form Drift to Wing hopefully. He'd had the chance to see a few during their travels, some that he had liked more than others. There had been one on Cybertron he had visited almost every orn until the time they left after he had discovered it. "There wasn't time to stop and look the last time we went out."

Wing's optics brightened. "There are some beautiful parks in the city. I know all the best ones. One of them is actually fairly close outside the Citadel."

Drift smiled warmed as he pressed against Wing's side, his field rich with approval. "Let's go then."

Wing chirred happily, leading the two out of the Citadel. He took the back routes, mostly, where the crowds were thinner, keeping Windswept close to himself and Drift, knowing how nervous the blue mech was around strangers.

The park wasn't that far away. Silvered paths wound lazily through it, between spreading trees with leaves of crystal and gold foil. Elegantly-decorated and shaped planters held flowers and small flowering bushes, their flowers gleaming in the sunlight, casting glints of rainbow over everything. The light breeze that curled its way between the city's great buildings stirred the leaves, creating a multi-toned crystal chiming and musical whispering as crystal leaves tapped and rubbed against each other.

"Nice," Drift commented. Such organic styles weren't his favored athletic, but he was at a point where he could appreciate the artistry involved in cultivating them.

Windswept's field purred in delight against the other two mechs, not even dampened by the proximity of the others visiting the garden. His optics roved over the flowers and the paths, noting the arrangement of the colors and the shapes and simply enjoying being out in the open once more.

It was enough to make Drift's field pick up a bit more, his enjoyment of the outing notably increased by the pleasure it brought his mate. "This close, you could come here on your own when you're feeling a little better," he suggested, hoping Windswept would take the idea as a prize for the effort of socializing again.

Wing smiled at Windswept. "As close as it is to the Citadel, it's a regular spot for quite a few Knights as well as civilians. Very peaceful and quiet. I come here sometimes to think, or just to enjoy the views."

The blue mech nodded, hope and doubt at war in his field. He wanted to be able to wander and explore again. He wanted to stop feeling like a burden.

But the mere idea of traversing the winding paths of the gardens, with all of it shadows and corners, was terrifying and had him unconsciously pressing closer to Drift, who simply hugged him closer and pushed confidence towards the blue mech.

Wing gently touched Windswept's shoulder before leading the two farther into the park, toward a small arrangement beside the path. 

The reassurance of the other mechs had Windswept's unease soothed quickly, trust in the them easing his fear like little else could. Soon his attention was back on the beauty of the park and the joy of being with his mate and Wing.

Wing stopped beside the landscaped beds, his wings stirring on his back, then he knelt down to carefully pluck a single bloom. Rising to his pedes, he offered the crystal flower to Windswept as Drift watched with a distinctly amused expression.

Surprise and delight flared through the blue mechs field as he took the bloom, cradling it in both hands. "Thank you."

Wing trilled softly, optics glowing at the blue mech's reaction. Noting Drift's amusement, he tilted his helm, flicking a curious pinion.

Windswept was momentarily distracted, shifting the bloom and watching the light of the suns play over the surface and reflect off the angles.

"Just that giving flowers are a favorite on Earth too," Drift shrugged. "Organic world the Autobots have a stronghold on."

"I was there, with the Aerialbots," Wing replied. "A bird almost flew right into my engines." He shuddered at the memory, pinions briefly flattening before flaring again. "I brought some seeds back with me when I returned here. We have roses. White ones, specifically."

"Do you care for them?" Drift was actually curious. He hadn't expected that, even knowing the Aerialbots had raised this Wing and that meant time on Earth, among a dozen other worlds.

"Will...will you show me some time?" Windswept interrupted shyly.

"Does white mean something with roses, or is it just a pretty match for your finish?" Drift purred, reaching out to stroke affectionately down Wing's chestplate.

"And yours," the jet purred in reply and was rewarded by a flare of _desire-approval_ in Drift's field. Wing smiled at Windswept. "Yes, I'll show you."

"Thank you." Windswept murmured, looking between the two of them for a moment before his optics dropped back to the crystal bloom.

It was enough to make Drift back off and collect himself before nuzzling Windswept affectionately, but without arousal. "Do they decay?" he asked Wing with a glance at the delicate construct.

Wing shook his helm. "Not that kind. The petals are actual crystal; when picked they harden. That blossom will last a long time."

Curiosity and amazement slipped into Windswept's field as he lifted the bloom to study it again, testing a petal gently with a finger and finding Wing's words to be true. Separated from the plant it was already beginning to stiffen.

Delighted, he settled it carefully in his subspace where it would be safe.

"You know, when it stabilizes, I think that would look good as a helm ornament," Drift purred playfully.

Wing tilted his helm to one side contemplatively, then nodded. "It would. And it should be fully hardened within two orns. Once it's solidified, it's harder than diamond, I've heard."

"I'll still put it somewhere safe." Windswept promised, shifting to lean against Wing for a moment, his continued delight clear.

::I think it would mean a lot to him if _we_ gave him something to wear marking the three of us as claimed by each other,:: Drift commed Wing privately, enjoying the delight radiating from Windswept.

Wing's audial flares shifted ever so slightly. Golden optics flicked toward the garden. ::One for each of us?:: He flared out a wing, brushing it against Windswept affectionately.

::I was thinking an ornament with our designation glyphs and 'intended', but that might work too,:: Drift said thoughtfully. ::I have learned that the more public and blatant the indication, like when I incorporated the mate indicator in our designations, the more it means to him.::

Wing's optics sparkled. ::I know of several places where such an item can be commissioned. There are several artisans and craftsmasters who enjoy doing fine work.::

::Good,:: a deep purr vibrated from Drift's engine as he leaned over to capture Wing's mouth in a short, chaste kiss before returning to nuzzle Windswept. "We know you'll take good care of it."

Wing chirred softly into the kiss, then leaned over to wrap his arms loosely around Windswept, purring against the blue mech's shoulder.

Joy flared in response, then Windswept reached out, running a hand over one of the white jet's wings.

The wing stretched into Windswept's hand, offering itself to be petted. Wing purred in Windswepts's audial, nuzzling his side of his helm and along his jaw while Drift chuckled at the familiar reaction.

"You are _such_ a tactile slut," Drift laughed in good humor, his pleasure at watching clear in his field.

The hand slowed, then moved along the wing again, cautious and testing.

Wing made a face at Drift, leaning into Windswepts's hand on his wing. "I like being touched. Nothing wrong with that." 

"Never said there was," Drift chuckled and nuzzled Windswept encouragingly. "It's not even that sensual for him unless you're trying to make it turn him on."

Windswept laughed a little, amused by Wing's obviously pleasure and more than happy to indulge the white jet as Drift guided them to a bench and settled Windswept in the middle, Wing's wings still in gentle blue hands.

Drift leaned against Windswept's back and nuzzled him, his field content to watch his lovers interact and happy.

Wing looked about ready to melt into a contented puddle, leaning into the touch, still purring. His whole body was relaxed, his field pulsing gently against Windswept's, expressing just how much he liked to be touched, craved the contact. 

The desire for touch and contact was something Windswept understood as his hands traveled over the wings, seeking and learning. This was something that had always come easy to him, pleasing others, and Wing's reaction and his field drew a contented purr from the blue mech.

Slender wings unfurled as far as they could, shining white, leaning into Windswept's hands. Wing was all half-closed optics and deep purr, as close to melting into a puddle of contented goo as he could possibly get.

Pride and a faint sense of accomplishment found their way from Windswept, a small affectionate smile on his face for the mech in apparent danger of sliding clean off the bench in his contentment. "Perhaps I should stop..."

"I don't mind," Drift nuzzled his mate. "I enjoy watching him in such a state. Though he might have plans."

Wing leaned back into Windswept's hands, almost across the blue mech's lap, his wings twitching.

Windswept ran his hands along the offered wings several more times, reducing Wing to a thoroughly relaxed jet before easing back to lean against Drift. Contentment wove through his field into the others as he turned his helm to nuzzle at Drift.

"I could get very used to this," Drift murmured, tipping his helm to return the nuzzle into a chaste kiss as he slid his arms around Windswept's waist.

The blue mech purred into the kiss complete acceptance without hesitation or fear. The comfort and safety of these two warm frames against his, the peaceful fields melded with his own ... Windswept could very used the feeling as well, very quickly.

Wing made a confused sound as the petting stopped, slowly lifting his helm. It took a breem or so for him to fully come back to his senses, wings slowly folding again. Turning, he wrapped his arms around both Drift and Windswept, joining the cuddle pile.

They stayed like that for a while, until Wing's fuel tanks grumbled at him, making the white jet twitch in mild embarrassment.

Windswept laughed from where he was pressed against the jet, reaching up to poke Wing gently in his abdominal plating. "Do we need to take care of that?"

"Time to return?" Drift asked reluctantly, knowing there were many places nearby to buy energon but unwilling to spend funds he didn't have to, Wing's or his own.

Wing's wings fluttered. "I know of a very nice restaurant not far from here. My treat?"

Drift lowered his chin to Windswept's shoulder and hummed. "As in a courting date?" He asked with a teasing purr.

Wing smiled brightly, if shyly, at Drift. "Yes."

Between them Windswept's field flared in a mix of shyness and excitement and Drift nuzzled him.

"I'd call that a yes," Drift smiled warmly and hugged Windswept against him. "When you think you can walk without stumbling?" he teased Wing for his previous overly relaxed state.

Wing chirred. "I think so," he replied, stretching slightly. "Might be a little wobbly."

"Sorry." Windswept murmured from where he was snuggled against Drift, even if there wasn't a hint of apology in his field.

Drift could only laugh, enjoying the interplay. He felt freer than he had in his entire existence, and was deciding he _liked_ the strange sensation. "Come on then," he nudged Windswept to get up and easily followed him to offer a hand to Wing. "Let's get you fed and enjoy a meal without any odd noises from your tank."

Wing leaned over to nuzzle Windswept, trilling softly to the blue mech. His field was playful, expressing just how much he'd enjoyed the touch.

Taking Drift's hand, Wing allowed himself to be helped up, wobbling slightly until he got his balance. Twining his fingers with Drift's and Windswept's, he tugged them gently in the direction of the place he had in mind.

Windswept settled himself into Wing's side once the jet was steady, field spreading out to maintain contact with the others. The walk was short but interrupted several times by teasing strokes to Wing's wings and the occasional tug Drift gave one or the other to claim a kiss that occasionally bordered on too much for public.

By the time they reached the restaurant, Wing was purring again, but he was still walking normally, almost bouncing on his pedes. The restaurant's owner looked up as they entered, waving the three to a table.

Windswept found himself seated first, safely away from the restaurant traffic. Comfortable and relaxed, he looked around curiously. Even with his limited experience, he picked up that this was a _very_ high end establishment. Drift's field, the surprise and faint tension weaving into it, only confirmed his assessment of the architecture and finely crafted decorations of pure Cybertronian design.

Wing settled on one side of Windswept, Drift on the other. After a moment, one of the servers brought over a menu, handing one to each of the three mechs.

"Pick whatever you like," Wing encouraged. "My treat."

Windswept took his time looking over the menu, noting that Drift was just as bewildered by the thing as he was before finally turning to Wing. "Recommendations?"

Wing considered the menu for a moment, then began describing the items he personally had tried, how they tasted, how they mixed best with what, the sauces and additives that tasted the best when mixed with the various dishes. Short wings fluttered briefly with enthusiasm before folding to his back again.

Drift's frustrated confusion melted towards amusement and affection for the adorable display his love was making. The wing movements were almost as distracting as Wings enthusiasm, and Windswept found himself hiding another smile as he settled on what sounded best from what the white jet was describing.

True to form, Drift chose something heavier, richer, and far more bitter, though he was also working more from Wing's descriptions than the menu. As far as he was concerned, the menu was in a foreign language that he only knew a few words of. Ingredients he could pick out. The rest meant nothing to him.

Wing put the menu down, catching the attention of the server. The light blue and slate mech came over to collect the menus and take their orders, making notes on a datapad before nodding and whisking away again.

Decisions made Windswept leaned against Drift, the display of affection subtle enough for a public environment and meant to help with the lingering confusion. Drift's engine purred softly, accepting the comfort.

"What first brought you here?" Drift asked Wing, curious when his love's taste for such finery had happened. He hadn't seen it on his first stay, but then, he'd hardly been civilized enough to take to the cafe Wing went to nearly every decaorn, much less a diner this elegant.

"My creators brought me here for the first time when I finished my training and became a full Knight," Wing replied. "I'm not here often, but I do come every now and then. The food is very good. Usually a meal here is something reserved for special occasions, and I do believe this qualifies." His smile was bright and open.

Drift returned the smile, his field flushing with agreement.

"Does it?" Windswept asked, real curiosity without a hint of mockery.

"It's our first courting date," Drift nuzzled him. "It's important for him to show off. Not just that he is a good choice, but that this city is worth staying in."

Wing reached over to take Windswept's hand, twining their fingers together. " _Any_ time I spend with you, both of you, is special," he replied with perfect honesty.

A moment of silent contemplation of the idea, then Windswept hummed softly in agreement. A flicker of shyness returned to his field, brought on by real affection for the mech holding his hand coupled with an unsureness of how to return it.

Approval caught him from Drift's side, along with relief from both.

"Glad you like him," Drift purred against Windswept's audio.

"What isn't to like?" Windswept murmured in return, playful but sincere.

Wing chirred softly, smiling at both mechs, his optics glowing a warm gold as they relaxed, chatted and simply enjoyed the warmth of the others. A breem later the server reappeared, bringing their meals. Windswept sat up for the meal, optics already a bit brighter in anticipation while Drift untangled himself a bit and refreshed the files on manners he'd downloaded at Axe's suggestion.

The black Knight probably knew Wing would take him here, though maybe not quite so soon.

He pinged Windswept with it, though he was sure his mate wasn't as clueless about such things as he was.

Windswept was clearly distracted for a moment, smiling at Drift as his field brushed out in thanks before turning his attention back to his meal. As a rule good manners were good manners, but there were ways of doing things in New Crystal City that were simply different, and knowing never hurt.

Wing hummed happily as he took a bite, his wings flaring slightly with contentment. Turning his helm slightly, he watched the other two, waiting to see their reactions. Windswept held off trying his own, as good as it looked, until Drift had tasted his, guided by manners as old Windswept's programming and still not forgotten.

It didn't matter that Drift had never felt it necessary.

The white mech was still used to it after more than a quarter century and didn't hesitate once he figured out which of the four offered utensils to use. With more care than he usually showed, Drift scooped several ingredients into a small bite and took it.

As the fine quality magma energon melted across his glossa, carrying the arsenic, copper, gold and a dozen other elements he couldn't identify as readily around his mouth in a blissful multi-tone flavor that was far beyond anything Drift could have imagined possible. His optics flickered off as he savored the bite, his field wavering as he tried to assimilate that this was even possible.

White wings and pinions fluttered happily as Wing took in Drift's reaction, the jet letting out a trill soft enough that only the other two could hear. Looking at Windswept, he eagerly awaited the blue mech's reaction.

Windswept waited until Drift was done, amused and eager to sample his own order after seeing his mate's reaction. There were few things in life that could cause Drift to react like that, and Windswept had never expected food to be one.

Easily finding the proper utensil for his own meal he selected one of the smaller solids in a thick oil base, his entire focus on the flavor and consistency. The spicy flavor was almost too much before the additives kicked in, adding a sweetness in perfect balance to the kick of the main dish.

He focused on Wing, field purring in delight. "Amazing."

"It is," Drift added as his attention returned from a second bite of different bits, this one crunchy as it had more metallic solids.

Wing's field flowed around Windswept's and Drift's. "This place has some of the best food in the city. I thought you would like it." His smile was brilliant.

Windswept hummed, too distracted to comment out loud. His field spoke volumes though- appreciation, wonder, flavor induced bliss.

The meal passed largely in silence, their server ghosting by now and then to check, though he didn't need to say a word. Wing was enjoying the reactions as much as the meal itself while Drift and Windswept were too lost in the new experiences to even think of making small talk. Their fields and frames did all the communicating for them.

This was beyond special.

After the meal, Wing bounced over to the counter to pay for the food while the other two waited, both still slightly blissed out from the experience. The jet was smiling brightly as he rejoined them, tugging them gently out of the restaurant.

Windswept allowed himself to be led along, offering no resistance as he leaned into the nearest warm frame and welcoming field. His own sang of absolute contentment and peace in the moment. Drift's was in a similar state, but once they were under the sun once more he managed to find the wits and tugged Wing into a lingering kiss.

Wing chirred happily into the kiss, wrapping his field around both mechs, one arm around Windswept's shoulders and one wing spread out against the blue mech's back. The three somehow found their way back to the park, slowly walking the silvered paths in the vague direction of the Citadel.

In a moment where there was no one in sight, Drift shifted to pull Windswept gently against his chest and kissed him, chastely but passionately as his field cautiously expressed his desire for his mate. "Would you join us?" he asked with a low rumble, resting his forehelm against Windswept's. "Wing's a gentle lover."

A flicker of distress interrupted the calm, blue optics on Wing as Windswept pressed into Drift's embrace and settled himself. "Yes. I want to...try."

Deep down his spark craved the intimacy being offered, the security that had always come with being wanted and cared for.

The white jet purred, fluttering his wings as he led the other two back to the Citadel. He tilted his helm toward Drift. "Your quarters or mine?"

"Ours," Drift leaned over to steal a kiss without loosening his hold on Windswept. "More familiar."

Wing nodded, tugging Drift and Windswept gently through the corridors to the level they had their quarters on, waiting patiently for Drift to punch in the door code. The jet's engines were purring with eager anticipation, field bright and playful. Drift's responded with the fierce arousal and _need_ that Wing had triggered in him long before he'd accepted the fact.

The white jet followed Drift and Windswept into their quarters, reaching out to run one palm down Drift's side while the other hand carefully, slowly extended toward Windswept, brushing light fingertips over blue armor. Wing's optics met Windswept's, asking without words how much the blue mech would be comfortable with.

Slowly Windswept stepped into the touch, accepting it and offering more in return as his field reached out.

Drift's engine purred and his field flared with approval. Gently he caught Windswept's hands and led his lovers into the berthroom where he pulled Windswept close for a kiss. "Remember you can stop this when you want."

Wing eagerly followed Drift and Windswept into the berthroom, his hands still gliding over blue armor. He had figured out that certain parts of Windswept's body were off-limits for touch from the small spikes of fear that still flared in the blue mech's field when wandering hands drew too close to his chestplates. The white jet hummed his agreement of Drift's statement, nuzzling Windswepts's shoulder in comfort.

"I know." He murmured, before initiating another kiss, this one with the faintest hint of desire behind it. It was all it took to draw a deep, desiring moan from Drift as the kiss was returned eagerly.

Slender wings fluttering, Wing eased forward to join in the cuddling, purring to both his lovers. One hand migrated to Drift's white plating, the other remaining on sleek blue armor that arched into his touch, seeking more and warmly welcoming it.

Drift's mouth worked its way down Windswept's jaw, kissing, licking and nibbling as he sought his mate's throat.

Easing forward, Wing delicately nipped along Windswept's shoulder and helm, lips tracing the lines of smooth blue armor. This was the first time he'd really gotten to touch the blue mech, and he was eager to explore Windswept's chassis and map out all the places he liked to be touched.

Windswept melted between the two of them, shivering at the touches on his frame, tilting his helm and allowing Drift access. Trust, and a growing want for what Wing and Drift were doing to him, filled his field and frame, encouraging his lovers.

::Overload him first?:: Drift pinged Wing privately.

The chirr of agreement was both out loud and through the comm, Wing's golden optics meeting Drift's blue over Windswept's shoulder. The jet's dark hands glided down Windswept's sides, fingertips flirting with the armor and transformation seams they found.

Small whimpers of encouragement escaped the blue mech, darkened optics coming back online as Windswept nuzzled Drift's neck and shoulder before tilting his face up for a kiss that was readily given.

Wing shifted, one nacelle brushing against Windswept's shoulder, revving gently against blue armor. The jet kissed a path across Windswept's shoulders, nipping at the back of his helm, hands running up Wind's back, dipping into seams to stroke the underlying circuitry.

Knowing black hands slid across blue armor, teasing and enticing before ghosting over Windswept's spike cover, offering rather than demanding.

The blue mech twitched slightly, shivering and burying his face in Drift's shoulder. "Not that...please."

Surprise-apology rippled through Drift's field and his hand quickly moved to Windswept's hip, rubbing soothingly for a moment. "Good, for saying so," Drift murmured, pushing approval through his field.

Wing made a soft sound, drawing away slightly until he realized the reason for Windswept's discomfort. Once he was sure it was nothing he himself had done, Wing eased forward again, purring softly, wrapping his arms around both of his lovers.

Windswept settled quickly, reaching up to run a hand down Wing's arm, processing Drift's approval and basking in it for a moment. Wing murmured something soft and reassuring into Windswept's audial, resting his chin on the blue mech's shoulder, his ornate audial flare rubbing against Windswept's helm.

"Valve still okay?" Drift asked softly.

"Yes. Yours." Windswept's field pushed out against Drift, then after a moment's hesitation back into Wing as well, offering.

A rev of Drift's engine responded. He enjoyed that valve far too much not to want it. But he forced himself to focus on his hands and field, intent on following through with his plan to overload Windswept first.

Wing's nacelles revved against Windswept's shoulders, vibrating against blue armor. Tilting his helm, the playful jet nipped gently along Windswept's jaw and the blue armor framing his cheek.

The blue mech purred, turning to meet Wing's attention and nudged at the jet until he caught Wing's lips in soft kiss, curious and asking.

Wing responded eagerly, keeping the kiss gentle, his glossa stroking over Windswept's lower lip. His purring picked up, a gentle vibration running through both mechs.

The shiver of pleasure that ran through the blue mech was honest. Drift's hands on his frames, hands that knew him so well and had only brought him joy and pleasure. And Wing's curious desire, wanting without demanding, was easy for him to respond to.

"Yes," Drift nearly moaned at the sight of his lovers kissing with the intent to do more. A rush of arousal flooded his systems unlike anything watching had ever done for him before.

Wing trilled softly into the kiss, his glossa gently exploring Windswept's mouth. Gentle black hands glided over the blue mech's frame, exploring the contours of his armor, seeking out all the most sensitive places, where Windswept liked to be touched. He soon found Drift's fingers over his, guiding him.

The brush of hands over his abdominal plating had Windswept moaning into the kiss, and when questing fingers delved into hip joints to play with the sensitive wiring and components underneath he keened softly.

 _Approval-desire-pleasure_ wrapped around the blue mech from Drift. It was a common sensation, but right now it meant so much more.

 _Desire-curiosity-playfulness_ was the answer from Wing's field, wrapping around theirs. Golden optics flicked to Drift's icy blue, Wing happily allowing Drift to show him where Windswept most liked to be touched.

Between the attention from both mechs Windswept was soon reduced to a softly keening mess of pleasure and want, pressing into the touches and reaching out to return them blindly.

One mouth and glossa was against his, another on his neck cables. Hands stroked and teased. Both fields meshed with his encouraged him to let go completely and allow the overload to sweep through him.

Wing's fingers slid into the seams of Windswept's armor, stroking the underlying circuitry. His nacelles revved again, sending vibrations through all three. It was enough to drive the blue mech in their arms to overload, keening his pleasure as his frame stiffened from the release of the built up energy that sparked over his frame to tickle at his lovers.

Both his lovers held him, stroking him and cooing through the discharge. When Windswept found his coordination again, he was on the berth, snuggled between Wing and Drift as they stroked him affectionately. Drift's field was alive with arousal, kept in check only by his care for his mate's trauma.

The semi-permanent arousal that always lurked in Wing's field had grown stronger. The jet was draped partly over Windswept, stroking his back and sides, nuzzling against his shoulder, making a soft trilling purr.

Windswept nuzzled at Drift, field flaring out with affection for both mechs as small shivers ran through his frame, aftershocks from the overload. "Thank you." He murmured, basking in the warmth and affection being showered on him.

"Anytime," Drift smiled before kissing him, soft and lingering. "Any thoughts on what you'd enjoy with both of us?"

Windswept shifted a little in his arms, actually managing to consider the idea without panicking. Finally he nuzzled at Drift, earning small kiss before he spoke again. "Valve is...better. Both of you..."

Drift shivered in anticipation and kissed him a little more firmly. "Who do you want to face?"

"You." Windswept, shivering as the white wings brushed over his frame, his hands moving to roam slowly over Drift's armor. His mate ... and oh how he adored that word ... smiled and kissed him again.

Drift's rolled to his back, gently pulling Windswept on top of him and slid his spike cover open. "Would you like to have Wing's glossa warm your valves up for us?"

Shy blue optics turned to look at Wing indirectly. "If he likes that sort of thing..."

While Windswept had never had a problem with giving oral, he knew many mechs who disliked giving it and he wasn't about to ask something of the white jet that Wing didn't _want_ to do.

Wing's response was a playful laugh. "I have absolutely no problem with that," the jet purred. "But... valves?" Golden optics gave the two a curious look.

"He was built with two valves and a spike," Drift supplied, stroking his mate's sides in a mixture of sensual and reassuring. "No clue why, but it's fun."

Windswept melted into the touches. "My entire frame was designed with the intent of pleasing Drift. From what they were able to gather of his preferences two valves was considered a good modification."

"They gathered well," Drift purred and kissed him, excited by the prospect of having both his loves joined in a tangle of pleasure.

The white jet looked intrigued by that. "Sounds like it can be a great deal of fun." Wing was purring again, running his glossa along his lower lip, optics bright.

A soft moan of pleasure almost covered the sound of covers being retracting, exposing both valves for Wing's to see.

The white jet slithered down Windswept's body to see for himself. Golden optics brightened as Wing took in the two valves, then he slowly leaned forward, brushing his audial flares against Wind's thighs, warm air from his vents stroking over the blue metal.

A shiver ran through Windswept's frame at the heat and touch, small as it was. He latched on to Drift, needing to center and steady himself with the reminder that these mechs were mate and lover, who would never wish him hurt or harm.

Black hands stroked lightly over Windswept's thighs as Wing leaned down to the forward valve first, his glossa stroking lightly over the sensitive platelets before slipping inside, locating a sensor node. The jet's field licked at Windswept's and Drift's, humming with enjoyment, the undercurrents hinting that the playful jet would rather have his wings ripped off than hurt either of his lovers.

Drift's field flared out, wrapping even more firmly around Windswept, pulsing with reassurance and approval. Approval that had always meant so much to Windswept coming from Drift. And now Wing's as well.

He latched onto the fields, feeding off the desire for mutual pleasure, his lovers wanting to give, wanting him for who he was and not just what they could get from him.

The first brush over the sensor nodes in his valve drew a soft sound from the blue mech.

Wing purred, his nacelles idling against blue armor. Squirming forward a bit for better access, the jet slid his glossa in deeper, thoroughly exploring every inch of Windswept's valve that he could reach. Every sensor node he found was stroked and licked over, the tip of the jet's glossa playing with each, Wing humming happily the whole time.

"You feel how much he's enjoying that?" Drift shivered in anticipation and memories of what that glossa could do. "How much he gets off on making you feel good?"

Windswept could feel it, a small whisper of wonder curling through his field under the sensations Wing's glossa was creating. Desire flared in him, a want for more that had been almost forgotten.

Wing's purr increased in volume slightly, Windswept's lubricant sweet on his glossa. The jet's helm nasal brushed the rim of the blue mech's valve as he worked the appendage in as deeply as he could.

The roar of _approval-desire_ in Drift's field was nearly deafening as his vents opened wide in anticipation of the intense heat of interfacing. His hands worked into the seams along Windswept's sides, the effort to comfort gone in favor of the effort to arouse and pleasure.

Small whimpers of pleasure met their efforts, nothing of the fear or reservations from earlier in Windswept's field.

Once the blue mech's front valve was dripping with lubricant, Wing drew his glossa once more over the nodes, one long, sensual lick, before switching his attention to the rear valve. Purring loudly, his nacelles revving gently against Windswept's thighs, Wing gave the rear valve just as much attention as he had the front valve. Dark fingers stroked along Windswept's thighs, gliding over the seams, flirting with the armor gaps at the backs of the blue mech's knee joints.

Under them, Drift rumbled with need until he couldn't stand it. His hands guided Windswept's to move slightly, allowing him to sink into the very willing, very ready valve with a low moan. He didn't thrust, though, determined to give Wing as much time as he wanted.

Windswept moan and quivered as his forward valve was filled, the pleasure swirling in his field leaving no doubt that it felt _good_.

Wing only withdrew when the rear valve was as thick with lubricant as the front valve had been. Licking his lips, chirring happily at the flavor, he slid up Windswept's body, pressing light kisses over the blue mech's back armor, gently sliding his own spike into Windswept's rear valve.

Drift thrust up to meet Wing with only the thin membranes of the valve linings between them.

Windswept gasped at the first movement, sensor nodes flaring in his valve and sending the first rush of that kind of pleasure through his frame. Close on the heels of the pleasure was the desire for more.

Wing chirred, the sound shifting into a soft trill. Shifting his hips, he began thrusting into Windswept's rear valve, alternating his thrusts with Drift's, settling into a counter rhythm. He nuzzled against Wind's shoulders and helm, pressing nipping kisses to the back of the blue mech's neck while Drift concentrated his kisses on Windswept's mouth and face.

Three pairs of hands sought to pleasure the others as much as the lubricated friction of spike and valve.

Between the two white mechs Windswept keened softly, chasing Drift's mouth seeking a deeper kiss as his fingers teased joints and seams. Meshed fields shared the pleasure each was feeling.

The slide and stretch in his valves was exquisite, flaring each time one of his lovers found the most sensitive nodes buried deep. 

Wing shifted his hips slightly, changing the angle of his spike. The next thrust found an entirely different set of sensors deep in Windswept's valve. Craning his neck slightly, the jet sought Drift's lips over Windswept's shoulder, trilling and chirring in the blue mech's audial.

Windswept was lost in the pleasure, his own and his lovers, neither of them faltering as their lips met.

Wing chirred into the kiss, his hands gliding down Windswept's sides, one sliding off to touch Drift's white armor. Shifting one leg, the jet used the extra leverage to thrust his spike deeper into Windswept's valve. Dark fingers slid under Drift's hip scabbard to caress the connection point.

It earned him a low, resonant moan and strengthened Drift's thrusts. Black hands met black, the fingers of their left hands entwining against Windswept's hip. Drift's optics flickered off, offering more processor power to enjoy the slide of frame and spike. He sought Wing's other hand with his free one, capturing it and twining their fingers together to rest on Windswept's other hip.

Ice blue optics flicked on, taking in the sight of Windswept and Wing's bliss above him. He burned it into his memory banks under the highest priority tag for backup and survival, the same level and that his combat and 'how to scavenge energon' files were stored.

A deep, trembling keen escaped Drift's vocalizer, a sound of emotions too intense to process. A sound of distress, but for the intense _pleasure-joy_ in his field.

Above him Windswept was too far gone to consciously process anything. Having his deepest fears soothed by the knowledge that he was loved and wanted granted him the freedom to enjoy this, and desire to want it.

Pleasure built from the friction and energy in his valves and the fields of his lovers meshed with his own, spiraling higher until it climaxed explosively.

Wing keened, a wordless sound of pleasure, golden optics meeting Drift's blue over Windswept's shoulder. His fingers tangled with the white grounder's, his back arching as the pleasure crested, his transfluid flooded Windswept's back valve.

The dual overload was more than Drift could take and his keen exploded into a roar as his hips thrust up, burying his spike fully before the hot transfluid rush out. He only just held on to consciousness, blearily aware of the mecha above him and the _pleasure-contentment-awe_ flowing through their mingled fields.

Windswept was spent, collapsed on top of Drift and off line. Wing managed to muster enough coordination to slide off the top of the pile, curling into Drift's side, draping an arm over Windswept. The white jet was purring softly, contented, as Drift squirmed an arm out to hold him, the other arm wrapped around Windswept's limp frame.

"Could get _really_ used to this," Drift murmured, his frame humming with contentment and his field rich with it.

"That makes two of us," Wing purred, snuggling closer to both mechs. Tilting his helm, he pressed a tender kiss to Windswept's forehelm as he and Drift settled in for a light recharge until their third was aware again.


	19. Before You Cross Blades

Windswept followed Drift through the halls of the Knight's Citadel, from the familiar levels that housed the junior Knights to the floor of training rooms. He was being permitted to stay in the same room with Drift during his training when Wing was also occupied, neither of the white mechs willing to leave him alone for any length of time after the scare he had given them. When Redline had backed up their demand, it was granted.

Drift stopped abruptly in front of a door, pausing for just a moment before keying the door, revealing a room already occupied by Dai Atlas and Axe.

"I see you have learned punctuality," the giant blue mech nodded, his ruby red optics taking in the pair.

"I always knew it," Drift retorted, though there was no fire in his tone. "Motivation was the question."

"Hang your Great Sword," Dai Atlas motioned to the short row of vertical stands where Strength of Conviction and Sentry of Balance were already resting alongside the great battle-ax that Axe preferred to wield.

Drift inclined his helm and did as instructed.

Windswept stayed quietly out of the way near the door, visibly far more at ease than he had been since his arrival.

"The best view will be here," Axe smiled at the small blue mech, motioning him to join the triple changers to one side of the raised platform Drift and Dai would be on.

"Thank you." The blue mech found a comfortable position along the wall near the shadow of the black giant. They watched in silence as Drift joined Dai Atlas on the platform. There was a tension between them as Dai Atlas handed Drift a dull practice sword and asked him to perform a simple kata he knew Wing had taught him.

For a moment Windswept was distracted by watching his mate's movements. He recognized the kata that Drift was performing as one that he had seen many times before. It was not the smoothest that he had ever seen his mate run it, but that could be credited to the weapon and the scrutiny Drift was under.

"He normally does better?" Axe asked conversationally, his optics never leaving Drift as he repeated the kata, this time move by move with Dai Atlas making corrections to stance and position with each stage.

"Yes." Windswept agreed, optics never leaving his mate, noting the corrections that were being made with interest. He was distantly aware that Axe was paying close attention to his field, though the much older mech didn't attempt to mingle more than the very outer edges in a polite manner.

Axe hummed thoughtfully. "Do you have a memory file of it?"

That did catch Windswept's attention. "Yes. Of this exercise, and other ones that he practice on a regular basis. I...I liked to watch."

A comm ping requested an example of the most common ones. Axe's field expressed curiosity. "Liked?"

"Still do." Windswept corrected himself as he searched through memory files, selecting the ones that Drift had performed most often and a few that the blue mech enjoyed watching most. Satisfied with his selection he wrapped the file up and sent it along the established comm line.

"I have little skill with a blade, despite Drift's attempts to teach me. But I do like to watch."

"I have always enjoyed watching Dai, and Wing," Axe said fondly as he reviewed the file on the kata they were teaching today and sent it, along with his comments, to Dai Atlas as Drift seemed to struggle with something he clearly knew how to do. While not perfect, Drift's form in Windswept's memories was quite sufficient for his stage in training. "It was a joy to watch Wing perfect his form, and enticing to watch my mate perform."

"It's art, in it's own way." Windswept agreed. "Dangerous art, but art."

He had always loved watching Drift when he trained for himself, when the white mech had felt safe enough to turn his focus inward and concentrate on the details of what he was doing.

"There is a reason Metallikato is called a martial art," Axe chuckled, his field and tone relaxed. "It is an art of war."

"War...and more, from what little I have seen." Windswept replied.

A moment and Axe nodded. All that a Knight was off the battlefield was summered in that. Discipline, focus, purpose, social protocols, humility, honor.

"Yes, Metallikato demands a strict code of ethics and spiritual attunement," Axe agreed, watching as his mate patiently guided Drift through the kata once more. "Drift seems to be primarily taught by his Great Sword. He has not had a master since he left, and Wing had not taught him nearly as much as he knows now."

::He also has picked up partial techniques that had fallen out of favor long before I was trained,:: Dai Atlas added.

"Is that going to hurt him?" Windswept asked softly.

"No," Axe assured him. "It only means his training is more fragmented than we expected. The Great Swords hold memories and spark fragments dating far before there was even Metallikato. They were taken up by the first masters of what would become Metallikato, but they were old even then."

The small mech contemplated that for a while, watching as Drift repeated each motion until it was deemed satisfactory by Dai Atlas's strict standards.

"How long do you think it will take?" He finally asked, curious where Drift stood in the process of becoming a Knight.

"Until he will be ready for the final trials?" Axe asked to be sure. "Forty centuries, perhaps fifty. He has as much to unlearn as to learn, though he is a very quick study in the katas."

"Yes, the combat training will probably come easy for him." Windswept agreed. The timeline that Axe had given him matched what Wing had told him. "It is the rest of it he will find more difficult."

"He has many supporters," Axe smiled down. "Dai and I have adopted him, as we have you. As long as Drift wishes to become a Knight, he will find all the support he needs to pass the lessons and trials."

"He's made up his mind." Windswept sighed, having seen Drift like this before. Once the white mech was set on something it was very hard to turn him, and the incentive of Wing at the end would be enough even if Drift didn't want it at first.

The rest of what Axe said processed, and soft blue optics looked up at the giant mech. "Me?"

"Yes, you," he smiled a little more. "You are quite adorable, and we've adopted Drift."

The blue mech shrugged, not sure how to respond to that. He didn't think anyone had ever referred to him as 'adorable' before. 

Axe considered him while watching Drift move through the second kata of the day. "That probably doesn't mean much to you, does it?"

"Drift I can understand." Windswept had listened enough to Wing that he was beginning to grasp how the Knights worked, and the relationships they built between themselves. Wing was cleared loved by his creators. Drift and Wing were meant for each other, so the triple changers adoption of him was perfectly reasonable as well.

For anyone else to want him was difficult for him to grasp. Drift's desire for him...he had always belonged to the white mech. Wing's acceptance of him seemed to be a mix of the jet's own feelings and Drift's fondness of him.

Why Dai Atlas and Axe would trouble themselves over him was something he could not find a reason for.

"You are very important to our creation, and to Drift," Axe tried to explain. "You are also so _very_ young. It all makes for a compelling mix to us."

Windswept hummed at that, optics settling back on Drift as he attempted to work through the reasons. It was a different feeling, and one that was going to take some time to adjust to.

"What is difficult to grasp?" Axe asked gently.

"All of it?" Windswept confessed.

Axe gave a sympathetic look and brush of his field. "It will make more sense in time."

"We've never stayed in one place very long. Just long enough for a mission, or Drift to recover. I think the longest we remained in one place was the two metacycles we spent in Iacon on Cybertron." Windswept tried to explain.

Axe nodded. "And you never had a cadre to travel with or bond to, only Drift. Family will mean something in time," he promised. "It is not unlike Wing and Drift are to you, only you don't normally interface with your creators."

Windswept was silent as he contemplated Axe's words. Drift was everything to Windswept. The white grounder was comfort and safety, affection and possibly love.

Wing was comfort and affection, someone whose company Windswept was actually beginning to enjoy.

Blue optics traveled back up the black mech's frame as he tried to imagine associating some of those feelings with the triple changers.

Axe smiled, offered the warmth and welcome of his field, but otherwise allowed the small blue mech to process the concepts on his own time.

Windswept was silent, distracting himself with watching Drift for a while. Halfway through the second kata Windswept sighed. "He's going to be busy for a long time, isn't he?"

"Yes," Axe agreed. "For the first twenty vorns, expect he will have little time that is not taken by training or recharge. After that, training will still consume at least half of each day."

"How often will he be somewhere I cannot go?"

"Rarely," Axe assured him. "Even rarer will be the times you can not watch from another room, if you wish. While the timing left much to be desired, the penance his Great Sword demanded was extremely unusual. I do understand why he did not wish you to witness it."

That entire time was still a blank in his memory banks, the only information he had to work on was what Wing and Drift had told him, and what Redline had grumbled at him when the medic had stopped to check on him the next day. Most of the information he had centered around him, with both of the white mechs very reluctant to give him actual details of the price that Drift's Great Sword had demanded of him and he had paid.

Which led him to another thing. "What will be expected of me?"

Axe smiled. "That you obey our laws. That is all anyone is required to do for their daily energon and shelter. Wing and Drift have both made it clear that they intend to support you as Drift has always done so you may live as well as the Knights do. So the only expectations will be what they place on you, and that you do not assist Drift in his chores while he is an Initiate. 

"Like all residents of the city, you may work for credits to buy things, from improved energon and housing to luxuries. There is always work at the Citadel, simply check this list and claim any you wish for the day," he pinged Windswept with the location of the chore board, which included the value of each duty. "There are also many opportunities in the city for daily work or jobs that you do regularly."

Wing and Drift's promises again, spoken to others and now repeated to him. He didn't want to live any place away from Drift, so 'improved housing' was not an incentive.

His need, drive, to be useful would be enough to cause him to seek something to do.

Axe allowed him time to processes the information, both factual and intent.

"Thank you." Windswept finally murmured, filing the information away for later. If he was not allowed to assist Drift in his chores, there might be a chance that he could help Wing. If nothing else, he could maintain their quarters, have energon ready when Drift made it back so he could get his recharge and not make any demands of Drift's extremely limited time.

"Is there anything you are curious about?" Axe asked easily, his field gently encouraging as they watched Drift struggle but learn quickly.

"Will Wing be as busy as Drift?"

"Oh no," Axe chuckled. "Wing is a full Knight, if a young one. He has chores for Citadel maintenance and several joors a day of practice and meditation as his duty. I know he takes jobs to earn extra credits. I believe he generally has half to two-thirds of his day free."

Windswept relaxed, relieved with that revelation. "He had offered to show me some of the art available in the city."

"You are interested in the non-martial arts?" Axe visibly perked up in interest.

"Yes. Drift let me ... encouraged me, to study anything that interested me. Art, music- they helped to pass the time during travel." Windswept offered, noting Axe's reaction.

"You will find much here to study, and many teachers eager for a student with any talent to hone," Axe's smile was bright and very pleased. "This city was founded in no small part to preserve and encourage those skills that war destroyed the most quickly."

"I've noticed, the few times I have been out." The walk in the park was still very fresh in his processor, sending a small shiver through his frame. "The city is beautiful."

Axe's powerful engines purred in unadulterated pleasure at the praise. "Thank you. We have worked very hard to preserve the best of Cybertron from before this war."

"What do you do?" Windswept asked, curious.

A surprised flicker at the broadness of the questioning reached Windswept as the giant thought of how to answer. "I suppose my first duty is to keep Dai Atlas balanced and on the path. He is a senior master, but even masters have moments of weakness that a strong ally can help them with."

"Among the Knights, I am the second most senior, so I train many of them as Dai is training Drift now. I ensure that all the work that needs to be done is done, whether that means ordering someone to do it or seeing to the work myself. With Dai, I meet out the most severe of penances. I spend at least as much time as any other Knight in training, more than most in meditation. I also handle much of the political and administrated interaction between city and Citadel."

The description actually started Windswept some, not having an idea of just how much of the running of the Citadel rested on a single mech.

"Leadership is a lot of work," Axe said simply. "The reward for it is a city that runs smoothly."

Smoothly, safely, an example of what _could_ be when there were those willing to work for it in charge.

"And what will Drift do, when his training is complete?"

"His primary duty is that of all Knights; to remain prepared to protect the city," Axe deliberately glossed over the fact that the real duty was to gladly go into battle and die for the city without thought of what was left behind or hesitation for the pain it could cause. "Secondary duties include what Wing does now; chores to maintain the Citadel, honing his skills until he is ready to train the next generation of Knights, maintain the Code and oaths he will give when he's Knighted. What you see with Wing now will be what Drift will do when he is a Knight."

That, in a way, was strangely comforting to Windswept. "He'll like that."

"Good," Axe said, then winced as Drift completely fumbled his first attempt at a kata he hadn't done before.

There was a mirror flinch from Windswept, the blue mech watching for any sign that his mate was starting to lose his temper. Not that there was anything that he could do to make it better now, but he would know how bad of a mood Drift might be in when he was done. Determination radiated off the white mech, the deep rumble of his engine betraying his frustration, but he simply picked himself up and tried again.

The next time, at least, he was still on his pedes when he finished the short series of movements. His form wasn't much better, but he was still standing. Content and more at ease than when they had arrived, Windswept settled down, dividing his attention between conversing with Axe and observing his mate with ever proud optics.


	20. Making a Point

"Is this something that you do often?" Windswept asked, working on a stubborn scuff mark on the floor of the training room while Wing dealt with a line of blue paint a practice sword had left. When he asked Wing if there was anything he could help the white jet with, this was not what he had been expecting.

"Chores rotate, so a couple times a decaorn I get the sparring rooms. I prefer this to cleaning the windows, especially now that the city is on the surface. The sand messes with _everything_."

"You have to clean the windows as well?" Windswept looked up, surprised.

"We do all the maintenance that doesn't require special skills," Wing explained easily. "Cleaning the floors, the windows, the walls inside and out, painting, public washracks, the gardens ... if it needs to be done in the Citadel, it's generally a Knight that does it. Drift gets a higher share of the really unpleasant ones as an Initiate, but they'll be spread out once he's Knighted."

"Which ones are the worst? Besides the windows?"

"Cleaning the sewer," Wing shuddered. "Won't bother Drift as much, but I trade that one out whenever I can for anything else. There's almost always a grounder willing to trade windows or above-ground painting for it."

"I can see why." Windswept smiled a little. Heights had never bothered him as much as it seemed to bother other grounders. The smiled faded to thoughtfulness as he finished lifting the mark off the floor. "Wing...how many live in the Citadel that are not Knights?"

The white jet hummed thoughtfully, pinging the Citadel database when his memory was uncertain. "There are nine at the moment, including you. A sparkling or two will join that in the next couple vorns if Zephyr and Aurora have their way. Silk wants one too. Mates and dependents have always lived with us. In theory we take orphans, the very old and those too damaged to function independently, but that hasn't happened here. There's a clause for hiring staff if we need it, but again, it's not needed. There are plenty of Knights to get the work done without hindering our readiness."

"Sparklings?" That bit really caught Windswept off guard, blue optics lighting.

"There is a method to call sparks from a group of unbonded Great Swords," Wing explained vaguely. "I've never seen it, but it's how all mecha created in New Crystal City came about, since we don't have access to the traditional sources for sparks."

"So there aren't many at the same time." Windswept concluded. He had seen a few sparklings during his travels, but always at a distance and on the move.

"No," Wing shook his helm. "Tradition has it that a sparkling be Knighted and settled in their role before the next one is called. I'd finally reached the point when they were ready to call a new spark when you and Drift arrived. I'm not sure if they'll wait until Drift is Knighted, but he doesn't need nearly the amount of attention and supervision that a sparkling Initiate does."

Windswept hummed softly to himself, lost in thought for a moment. Mostly wondering what it might be like, to learn about living in the world instead of waking with a single purpose.

"Do you think you'd ever want to raise one?" Wing asked shyly.

Startled optics turned on Wing, clearly uneasy. "Me?" Windswept thought about it, considering the idea. "I don't know."

"Well, yeah," Wing's wings fluttered slightly in their tuck as he ducked his helm. "I kinda want to, some orn, if you and Drift agree."

Windswept got his pedes and crossed the training room to snuggle against the white jet's side. "Some orn." He agreed. "I think Drift will want as well."

A trilling purr responded and Wing turned his helm to nuzzle Windswept. "I don't expect soon. Drift needs plenty of time to settle down. But maybe after Zephyr and Aurora's is Knighted the three of us can petition for the next one."

Windswept leaned into Wing, taking a moment to simply enjoy being next to him. With an affectionate nudge of his own he picked out the next spot on the floor. "How many rooms do we have left?"

"This is the last one," Wing said cheerfully. "We'll have a solid joor of free time before Drift is released for the day unless you want to pick up a few credits during it."

"Is there something you would like to do?" Windswept asked, feeling a little guilty that either Drift or Wing was with him at all times.

"I can always think of something," Wing grinned playfully at him. "But the truth is we're only done early because you helped. So it's only fair that you choose what to do."

Windswept shrugged a little, looking away from Wing, not sure how his suggestion would be taken. "One of your creators mentioned there were ways to earn some extra credits. If I could earn some maybe I could afford some new files...."

"Yes, there are always unassigned chores available for credits. The ones that don't get claimed are assigned as punishment for minor infractions. If something stays up for three days, it gets put in the next day's chore rotation so it gets done," Wing pinged the list's location to him. "When you're feeling up to being on your own, I can introduce you to some of the folks in the city I trust if you want to do an actual day's work. It pays a lot better, but there are expectations about being on time and staying longer than most Knights can promise."

Wing paused. "What kind of files do you like?"

"I usually tried to get music files, and art files that caught my attention while we traveled. I-" Windswept paused for a moment, a shudder running through his frame as the memory of what had happened the last time he had gone out looking for a new file. "Histories, too, for a change sometimes."

"History files are free in the library," Wing reached out to hug him. "Nothing like that'll happen here."

"Library?" Windswept repeated, leaning into the warmth and welcome Wing was offering.

"Yes, all non-fiction is available for free at the city library," Wing smiled. "All you need is a pad to download it to. Stories and music, those you'll need to buy or trade for."

"Can we go some time?" Windswept looked up, hopeful. He'd take anything he could get until he could afford other files.

"Sure," Wing fluttered his wings happily. "Want to go when we're finished, before Drift is cut loose for the day?"

"If there is time. I have a pad in our quarters." Excitement flickered through the blue mechs field.

"We'll have time," Wing promised, pinging his creators to keep Drift occupied for an extra half joor. "Not enough to explore it fully, but plenty to gave a look and pick up a file or two so you can go on your own when you feel like it."

The promise earned him a true surge of excitement from Windswept, brushing against his field. Wing smiled brightly, delighted to have made the blue mech so happy.

* * *

Windswept was vibrating with excitement when was time for them to leave to meet Drift. Three new files were tucked away on the datapad stashed in his subspace for him to read over during his free time. The idea of so many files, files that he could study for nothing, was still difficult for him to wrap his processor around.

The library was far enough away that it would be a long time before he would be able to make the trip alone, but Wing had promised to bring him back when he finished with today's selections. What the jet said was true; it may be far to Windswept alone, but it wasn't even a joor there and back for a grounder in alt, barely a breem to a flier, and even walking, which did take the better part of three joors each way according to Wing, was a very pleasant walk.

The jet was as pleased as his charge, his wings fluttering excitedly from their tuck every klik or so as he guided Windswept to the entrance of the crystal-steel building that spired high above everything else in the city. A monument and a symbol of what the city stood for; freedom and knowledge for all.

"There you are," Drift smiled when he called out to the pair from the edge of the road outside the main entrance.

One glance and Windswept knew that his mate shouldn't be out here. Even with a third of his day's training and duties cut, he was still exhausted. Cleaned up from training or not, it was painful to see him so scratched up. There simply wasn't time enough to keep his polish up.

Wing smiled brightly when he saw Drift. "They finally let you go for the orn?"

Distracted, Windswept's excitement dimmed as he took in Drift's condition and hurried down the steps. Concerned field brushed against the white grounders. "Did you even fuel before you came out?" Windswept asked.

"Yes, and if it wasn't for you I'd have been out earlier," Drift grumbled in good humor as he pulled Windswept in for a hug and nuzzle in greeting. "Yes, I refueled and tried to clean up. Thorn helped, but I wasn't in much of a mood to put up with him long enough."

Wing bounced forward. "Wind wanted to visit the library. We needed a little extra time." Wide golden optics fixed on Drift's blue and the grounder melted, surrendering his annoyance as easily as Dai Atlas did to the jet.

Windswept had settled against Drift, comfortable until he processed what the two were saying and pulled away enough to look at both of them. "You would have been allowed to finish earlier if I hadn't wanted to go out?"

"Hush," Drift said firmly. "It's not like I really got out of anything. I'll still have to do the work later. Dai and Axe just agreed that I could have a mid-day break because the jeweler has to be visited during business joors and they agreed it's important enough not to wait."

Wing chirred, riffling his wings. "He's the best jeweler in the city." The jet bounced lightly on his pedes a few times before settling.

"Jeweler? What are you looking for?"

Drift chuckled and guided his mate along the sidewalk towards the merchant district. "We. See, New Crystal City has this tradition of having a decorative something made for each of an intended bonded group. You wear it and it shows everyone that you aren't just spoken for, but by who."

Wing walked on Windswept's other side, smiling brightly. "I found the best jeweler in the city, and he says he can make them for us. We're going to see him about designs."

"Us." Windswept repeated after he thought about what they were saying, his field shifting through a mix of emotions.

"Yes, us. A set of three, with all three designations on each," Drift nodded.

Wing nodded. "To show we're claimed by each other. As a triad."

The blue mech vented softly, field reaching out brush against Wing and Drift's. Hope, acceptance, fear, joy...and other emotions that Windswept could not find words for. Undercurrents of doubt directed inward, and love and desire for the two mechs that right now walked with him.

"It's as much as we can do, until we're ready to spark-bond," Drift murmured. He didn't hide the _fear-pain-longing_ he felt at the idea, at how far from ready _he_ was, even as he was looking towards a future where it happened.

Wing reached over to place a hand on Drift's shoulder, squeezing gently, affectionately. The white grounder leaned into the contact with a flicker of thanks as Wing chirred softly, his field brushing against both Drift and Windswept's. Fluttering his wings, he led the way to the jeweler's.

Windswept stopped just inside the door of the jewelers, taking the pieces set out for display. He'd never been in a place like this, and actually wandered several steps from Drift's side to investigate a piece that caught his attention. He still stayed within range of either Drift or Wing's field, and he felt the _approval-encouragement_ with every move.

Wing smiled as he watched Windswept for a moment, then bounced over to the counter, where a mid-sized mech colored jade-green with silver highlights waited patiently, watching the trio.

"Hello again, Wing," the jeweler greeted. His helm tilted toward the white grounder and the smaller blue mech. "These are the other two you mentioned, I take it."

"Yes," Wing beamed. "Windswept and Drift."

Windswept reluctantly left his study of the piece he was looking at- a thin armband of woven gold strands- and stepped closer to Drift at the jewelers acknowledgement. They joined Wing at the counter but hung back just a bit, both completely out of their element here.

The jade mech nodded to both. "You're here about intended markers." Without even looking down he picked up a datapad, sliding it across the counter toward them. "There are some traditional designs, or you can design a completely unique one if you so choose."

Windswept remained quiet, letting Wing and Drift take the lead. There was no missing the flare of excitement in his field as they started scrolling through the designs.

"Are there any you particularly like?" Drift nudged him gently.

The blue mech spent a few more moments in contemplation before touching the pad, bringing up a design several screens back. "This one is balanced and versatile."

Drift chuckled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "It would look good," he agreed. On Windswept's other side, Wing hummed his agreement.

Wing handed the pad back, their choice on display.

The jeweler accepted the pad, looking at the screen. A smile appeared on his face. "It would," he agreed, making a note on another datapad. "Would you prefer the gold alloys, or the silver-toned? What colors would you like for the central piece?"

"Gold would look best." Windswept suggested softly, mentally picturing the piece on all three of them.

"Gold then," Drift said, trusting his mate's artistic taste. "Red, gold and blue," he added for the three colors in the twined sparks in the center. He added a databurst of the exact shades and which went with who.

Wing was very happy to remain quiet. He'd speak up if he had something to add, but he agreed with what was being said.

The jeweler accepted the databurst, pondering for a moment. Picking up the datapad with the chosen design, he added the colors arranged so that each showed to an advantage before turning it to the trio to make sure it was as they wanted it.

An outer shape matching the center of the Matrix of Leadership, done in a background of the purest white and outlined in gold. In the center was a stylized spark of three equal portions of the exact shades of their sparks, though only Drift had seen them all. At the top of the design was the formal glyph for 'intended'. The formal glyphs for the designations, Drift's flanked by the two mechs he loved, completed the outer circle.

A soft hum of approval and excitement escaped Windswept as he looked over the design, optics critically seeking anything that might need to be altered. Wing and Drift were both content to let him work it out and give the final say, even if Wing was the one who would make the order.

Finally the blue mech nodded, satisfaction evident in his field and the way he leaned into Wing.

"This is what we'll go with," Wing beamed happily.

The jeweler nodded, making another note on his datapad. "This should only take a couple of orns to complete... When they are ready, I will let you know. I already have Wing's comm frequency."

They thanked him again, Windswept's attention focused on Drift as they departed. "Did this use up all of your free time?"

"It depends on what you have in mind," Drift chuckled, pulling him into a kiss once they cleared the entrance.

"Can think of a few things," Wing chirped. "Maybe doing something about those scratches?" He flicked a wing at Drift's chassis.

"Cleaning you up." Windswept agreed from where he had melted again Drift, one hand running over a rough patch of armor on Drift's thigh to emphasize the point.

Drift hummed, debating about making his own suggestion before nodding. It would feel nice to have his finish back.


	21. Progress

Windswept marked the place in the history he was reading, laying the datapad aside and stretching as he stood. Most of the morning had been devoted to straightening up the quarters he shared with Drift, a simple task considering that neither of had amassed much in the way of possession to clutter the space with since their arrival seven metacycles ago. Most likely a leftover trait from sharing a small ship for so long, though Drift had never been much on collecting things.

Done and finding himself free to do as he pleased, the bookfile and a cube of energon seemed a good distraction from the fact that he was alone in their quarters. It had taken several decaorns of prodding before Drift had even agreed to consider leaving Windswept alone, and even then had been very specific that he was not going to attempt it until Wing had free time as well. That way if Windswept did start to panic the white jet was just next door, and a more than acceptable presence to calm the panic before it spiraled out of hand.

The simple stubbornness and insistence on a backup plan for Windswept's security made the blue mech smile inside. His mate cared for him, about him. Light fingers brushed across the circular marker on his chest, feeling the raised designation glyphs and the single word that united them.

He walked over to the balcony, one designed for easy modification to a flier's residence and rested against the sturdy railing to look out over the gleaming city that was home now. He was relaxing, enjoying the view and the citizens going about their daily lives, when he heard the door slide open.

Windswept turned to look, a small frown of confusion on his face. There was only a handful of mecha with the code to these rooms.

Drift was not supposed to be back until far later in the orn, his training taking up most of his time while recharging and refueling occupied the rest. Wing had the codes as well, and now that he thought about it Windswept would not put it past the white jet to sneak over and check on him.

The flash of white didn't tell him who, but the pedefall did. It was Drift's heavier steps.

"Windswept?"

And Drift's voice, laced with concern and stress that had built for joors.

"Here." The blue mech answered instantly, concern speeding his own steps as he made his way back inside and crossed the room to snuggle into Drift's arms. "What happened? I didn't think they would let you go until late," he said, taking in the quickly dissipating stress from Drift's frame and field.

"I was too wound up, worried that you weren't ready," he admitted quickly before catching Windswept's mouth in a kiss that expressed all the desire and concern that had consumed Drift since he left before dawn. "They gave me a half joor to get my processors set to rights."

The blue mech purred gently, calm and at ease. "I am here, and I am well." He stretched up to claim another kiss from his mate, pushing contentment and affection at Drift so that the other mech could _feel_ the truth of his words.

Quickly buried was the guilt that Windswept felt for interfering with Drift's training. "Will you be able to concentrate now?"

"Yes," Drift kissed him again, wrapping his arms around his mate to stroke down his back. "But I still have half a joor," he purred, his field wrapping around Windswept in open desire to share more than a hug and kiss.

"So you do." Windswept agreed as he melted against the larger mech, a small smile on his lips and a teasing edge in his voice. "Is there something you can think of that will help you focus on your training?"

"Listening to you cry out in overload as mine hits," Drift rumbled, already running hot as he tugged his mate towards the berthroom. "Love to hear your pleasure."

The answering arousal and desire in Windswept's field, still a recent development, revealed just what the blue mech thought of that method of passing the time. Blue optics sparkled. "Think I might be able to help with that."

"Good," Drift claimed a fiery kiss before falling onto the berth, dragging Windswept down with him, then under him with Drift's knee between his legs. "Your arousal's so _good_ ," he moaned at the sensations weaving between their fields. Sensations only intensified by the honest willingness of the mech beneath him, devoid of fear and reservation. Encouraging hands roamed over white armor, Windswept ignoring the cosmetic damage that was a constant on his mate now in favor of playing with sensitive joints and seams.

A low, encouraging moan escaped Drift. It had been so long, too long, since he'd had the energy or time to spare for interfacing. Even now there wasn't the time or energy to spare to truly relish his mate.

Drift's spike cover snapped open, driven by arousal and the knowledge that their overloads would have to come quickly.

Windswept's valve was already bared, a reflection of the blue mech's own eager state. Healing had led to eventually missing the way things had once been, feelings that he carefully kept to himself. He could not be that selfish of Drift's time and attention when Drift was working to improve himself .

It only meant that when there were moments like this they were all the sweeter. "Yours." He stated, catching Drift in kiss they both moaned into as Drift rolled his hips forward, sinking his spike deep in a single smooth thrust.

Bliss rippled through the blue mech's field, the pleasure spreading to be shared with his mate. Wanting, perhaps a little selfishly, to be taken, reminded that he was desired. His mate eagerly responded to the desire, his own selfish needs to know he could still satisfy his mate rolling to the surface.

It was a state where they both willingly surrendered to their base desires and chased overload with a relentless passion.

It was relief, to stop thinking and simply _feel_ without worry. Love, desire, and knowing that you were _wanted_ on top of the physical pleasure.

Blue hands worked over Drift's frame, their owner having learned what touches worked best to excite and drive his lover. Soft whimpers and moans escaped Windswept with each thrust, the verbal evidence that Drift so liked of just how good it felt to his mate.

Soft hisses of pleasure, approval and appreciation escaped Drift regularly. It wasn't even a thought for him, simply part of what interfacing with Windswept was. It made the blue mech feel better and that was reason enough to do it.

Whimpers gave way to begging, semi-coherent pleading as charge built, sparking between the two. Blue hips rolled up, begging for more that was granted with stronger thrusts. Drift's hands tightened around Windswept's shoulders as his cries became near-desperate groaning grunts. So close. They were both so close.

It was Windswept who lost control first, calling out Drift's designation as his frame locked, valve clenching down. The charge surging through his frame was pure bliss. While unable to think about it, the grunting roars Drift let out with each thrust until he bellowed his overload and flooded Windswept's valve with hot transfluid ratcheted up Windswept's overload as well.

Sated and content, Windswept fell back on the berth. His vents whined, still trying to cool his systems as he recovered, finally finding the strength to nuzzle at Drift affectionately.

"Thank you," Drift murmured, his vents pumping out hot air as he relaxed from the intense pleasure and release of overload. He tilted his helm to kiss his mate, so much tension drained from his frame.

Windswept purred into the kiss, warm and relaxed from where he was pinned under Drift's lax frame. He nuzzled at Drift's cheek. "Love you."

"Love you," Drift murmured. It was still an uneasy statement for him to verbalize, but one that was coming more easily as he spent time in the safety of New Crystal City and Wing.

The words earned him a delighted purr as Windswept's fingers smoothed over his armor, loving and affectionate touches of contentment. Drift's time wasn't long, but the blue mech was bound and determined to enjoy every bit of it. Drift was as well, but he was also still in the mood to push limits from his training.

With a light rock of his hips he claimed Windswept's mouth, exploring it fully before drawing back slightly. "Up for trying something ... fairly new?"

"Mmmm...With you?" Windswept smiled, optics brightening a little. "I'm listening."

"Yes, with me," Drift chuckled, drawing his hips back and thrusting forward lazily. "You suck me off, while I do it to you."

There was a moment of hesitation as Windswept considered the idea, the small waves of pleasure from his valve making it difficult to concentrate fully. Then he nodded, reaching up to catch Drift's helm for a kiss.

"Sounds like fun."

"Good," Drift purred, his engine revving even as his field betrayed that he was pushing himself as much as Windswept with the idea. Not that it was a surprise. Not even Wing got oral from Drift often, and it was always something that required being careful with the white grounder. Too many memories of being forced to be wiped clean quickly.

Smoothly Drift pulled out of his mate and shimmied around so he was facing Windswept's spike cover and his own, still pressurized spike was in front of Windswept's lips. With a slight shiver of anticipation, good and bad, Drift kissed the panel in front of him, trying to draw on the actions he'd been forced to learn without the memories of how he'd come by the knowledge.

Lips closed gently over the tip of Drift's spike, glossa teasing the tip as Windswept sought to settle his mate and himself. Hands smoothed over hip joints, soothing and grounding until the cover of his own spike slid back.

A soft moan escaped Drift as he willingly let himself sink into the pleasure. His glossa slid out to circle Windswept's spike housing, trying to encourage the sensitive length out.

Almost reluctantly the blue mech's spike began to pressurize, Windswept whimpering softly around Drift's spike as his field reached out to tangle with Drift's, grounding him in the added presence of his mate. He felt Drift doing the same, both of them needing the reassurance about who they were with.

Drift's lips were gentle, his glossa caressing, his oral cavity warm and welcoming. It was slow too, the movements of someone who _wanted_ , but wasn't so sure about how.

Understanding, and slowly Windswept ran his glossa around the tip of the spike before sinking lower, tension easing as he drew on old memories, pleasant memories of making Drift moan and reducing the white grounder to a lump of sated mech.

Glossa caressing, he sucked lightly, almost teasing as he relearned what made his mate shiver and moan with pleasure.

All the while Drift was simply learning, working through a corner of his own pain. He knew mechanics, what pressure felt good, what to do with his glossa, but before Wing he'd always done it while someone he didn't want to pleasure had his helm in hand. Still, he used some of that technical skill to coax shivers and moans from Windswept, each vibration causing him to shiver and moan as well.

Gradually they both worked until their mate was trembling with pleasure and they'd taken the other's spike as deep as it could go.

Drift licked the sensitive underside and flexed his intake, mimicking a valve as he drew back.

The surge of sheer pleasure that flared in Windswept's at the action flooded his field, freezing the blue mech for a moment before he remembered what he was doing and focused again.

Shifting slightly, he mimicked Drift's motion, humming as he drew back until just the tip of the spike was teased by his glossa before sliding back to take him in again in a smooth motion.

Around Windswept's spike, Drift moaned deeply and pushed his face down, taking the spike in deeply once more. He swallowed repeatedly, massaging the spike with his intake while his glossa stroked and rubbed.

Any reservations were long gone, lost under the feelings of both mechs as they moaned. Windswept's fingers moved, sliding into joints to stroke the sensitive wiring underneath in time with the motion of his intake and glossa, wanting to feel Drift's pleasure.

It wasn't long before Drift went from feeling good to feeling _close_. With a shudder he drew back, allowing Windswept's spike to slide from his mouth as his field pulsed with his building need.

His actions drew a small whimper from the blue mech at the loss, forgotten by Windswept as soon as the need registered. With a purr of pleasure that came from simply pleasing he gripped Drift's hips as he squeezed and sucked with each motion of his helm in something he would only do for Drift.

A sharp cry, then a grunt and Drift's entire frame crackled with his overload. As cables tightened his back arched, pushing his spike deeper into Windswept's mouth as a second grunt came with an explosion of transfluid from the tip. Experience kept the small mech from choking or even faltering as he continued to work his mate's spike through Drift's overload, transfluid sliding easily down his intake.

He drew back as the tension left Drift's frame, glossa meticulously removing any evidence of the pleasure he had just caused the white mech.

For a long moment Drift simply rested there, allowing the pleasure to flow and ebb until he had control of his frame back. Only when he was sure he wouldn't bite his mate did he lower his helm to pick up where he'd left off. As he took Windswept's spike into his mouth he retracted his own. As good as it felt, he knew he didn't have the time or spare energy for a third round. He had many joors worth of tedious practice left before he was truly free for the day.

Windswept moaned at the return of the pleasure, reaching up to caress Drift's sides and hips as his helm fell back on the berth. He felt Drift smile around his spike as the sucking, intake flexing and bobbing to stimulate every node picked.

Even the feel of Drift's pleasure at his own was a turn on, Windswept's hips attempting to move into the rare sensations caressing his spike as the charge built. Free to speak now, each motion around his spike drew another sound from the blue mech. He felt through their fields how much Drift _enjoyed_ those sounds, how much they helped him right now.

Drift sealed his lips around the base of the spike and sucked, his intake squeezing and working to draw more cries, to pull Windswept all the way into overload.

A keen of bliss that cut out to static was his reward when the blue mech overloaded, grabbing on to Drift to anchor himself as he thrust up, frame quivering with the release of built up energy as transfluid erupted from his spike. Drift swallowed most of it, though more than a few globs dribbled out as he drew back.

With a satisfied rumble Drift lifted his helm and made a smooth turn to put him against Windswept's side with their helms close enough for a kiss.

It took longer for Windswept to regain control, turning clumsily to kiss his and moaning softly at the taste of tansfluid and Drift. "Thank you." he finally managed, vocalizer still staticky as it reset.

"We both needed that," Drift smiled and settled for a few breems of actual rest, his optics dimming quickly. "Felt good," he murmured softly.

"Good." Windswept agreed, kissing him again softly before nuzzling the white mech's helm as he checked the time. "Recharge for a bit. I'll wake you when you need to leave." He promised quietly, snuggling close.

Drift hummed, already mostly shut down. Still, his field brushed against Windswept's in thanks for the promise Drift had no doubt would be kept.


	22. A Pleasant Evening

"You really can go ahead and meet Wing. Thorn should be down soon, and there are enough others here I'll be fine until he arrives." Windswept pointed out gently as Drift escorted him into the common social room of the Citadel. A metacycle had passed since the white grounder had dared to leave his mate alone for a day of training, and with the success of that trial and subsequent positive repeats, Windswept had finally convinced Wing and Drift to go out on a date somewhere in the city without him.

To ease his mates processor Windswept had even devised a plan satisfactory to all involved. He would spend the evening in the common room with Thorn, a Knight that Wing had introduced him to that Windswept had begun to develop a friendship with. They'd found a common interest in Sovereign, and when Windswept had suggested a game that evening Thorn had agreed.

"Humor my protective urges," Drift smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I don't think I could take walking in to see you shut down again."

"Sorry." Windswept murmured, snuggled into Drift's side. He still felt bad for the scare he had given his mate, never wanting to hurt Drift in any way. "I'll be fine, promise. The two of you have fun."

"We will," Drift chuckled softly as they entered the common room. "Wing will see to it."

They made an easy line for the tall, slender black mech with glowing red highlights and accents of gold.

"Thorn." Windswept called, catching the dark mech's attention and earning a warm, welcoming smile from the frequently overly formal mech.

"Drift, Windswept," Thorn twitched his gold and black wings in greeting to the Initiate and his mate. "I brought the set."

"Thank you." Windswept said, nodding to where the board and pieces were already arranged on a table. "And thank you for agreeing to spend the evening with me. It means he'll actually go out." The blue mech added affectionately, poking his mate gently in the side.

"Yes, yes, I'll be going now," Drift chuckled as his mate took a seat, leaning down to claim a final kiss from Windswept before leaving to join his lover for an evening in the city.

"He only worries because he cares deeply," Thorn smiled at Windswept, inclining his helm to allow the younger mech to make the first move.

"I know." Windswept murmured, optics sweeping over the board, considering, before he moved his first piece. He was well aware of how much Drift cared, and that love and care was everything to the blue mech. "I feel bad when I am the reason that he feels he cannot go out and enjoy himself."

"Drift's an Initiate," Thorn chuckled. "Believe me, he doesn't have time to miss it. I'm rather amazed he has the energy to do so tonight."

"I'm not sure that he would have gone tonight if you had not agreed to spend the evening with me, and this is his first free evening in a long time." Windswept sighed softly, picking up a ranking piece thoughtfully before setting it back down in favor of a smaller unit.

"Likely not, but would he have enjoyed an evening with both of you in the berth any less?" Thorn said, both teasing and serious.

Windswept had to smile at that. "Knowing Drift, he would have found that a very pleasant alternative." Blue optics flickered in amusement. "And knowing both of them there is no guarantee that the evening won't end up that way."

A grin greeted that, and red optics shimmered in matching amusement. "Knowing Wing as I do, if the evening doesn't end up with at least one of you in the berth with him, I want Redline to check him out. Mech hasn't met a pleasure he didn't want to indulge in."

"Then you know him very well. And I think the only way that wouldn't happen would be me crashing again." The bad boot-ups from recharge had lessened considerably, almost non-existent now, which was a relief to all three mechs. Being woken from recharge by a panicking Windswept had proved unpleasant for both Wing and Drift, but especially for Wing, who had so little experience with recharge terrors.

"How long has it been, since something went wrong?" Thorn asked, his voice low.

"Three and a half metacycles." Windswept admitted, honest. "And the last one was mild, compared to some. I was fine before I even finished booting up."

"Good," Thorn smiled and began considering his move, fingering a knight out of habit. "Have you managed to let Wing suck you off yet?"

"Yes." Windswept purred at the very pleasant memory. While the blue mech had yet to return the favor, his introduction to just what Wing was capable of when it came to oral and a spike was an experience he was not at all hesitant to repeat.

Thorn's smiled brightened at the dreamy expression and the level of healing it represented. He moved a rookie unit on the front line. While he played to win, tonight he was playing to make the game last as well. "He's good," he agreed, drawing on memories of Wing both before and after Drift. They'd been quite different experiences, but both had been intensely enjoyable. It was just that after Drift, you knew that you would never have more than a casual tryst with Wing. His spark belonged to the former Decepticon, even if Drift would never be seen again.

"Very good." Windswept agreed, countering the move with ease and setting himself up for a sweep that would hopefully give him a platform to launch other moves from later. It had taken watching Wing pleasure Drift several times before he had been willing to let the white jet try, but afterward he had found himself wondering why he had waited so long.

"Have you taken him?" Thorn purred, imagining Wing writhing under the smaller blue grounder and finding the thought quite appealing.

Windswept shook his helm. "No, not yet." It wasn't for lack of the white jet offering either, but simply something Windswept had not yet found it in himself to do.

"When you get there, you won't regret it," Thorn promised. "Wing is an amazing display when he's under you."

"That I can believe." He hadn't taken Wing, but he had seen him taken. And having been in the white jet's place under Drift he could understand Wing's reactions.

"So out of the berth, how are things going with the three of you?" Thorn asked, watching as Windswept considered his next move. "I've heard Wing's side, but he's also an eternal optimist."

Windswept smiled at the description of Wing, unable to deny it. "Well, I think. He and Drift needed to go out without me, though it was difficult to convince both of that fact."

"It will be good for them, at least," Thorn agreed. "There's a lot there that they're both pointedly pretending isn't there," he sighed slightly, his gold and black wings twitching in mild distress. "So much they need to deal with. Even I can see it."

"Yes." Events and emotions from before the beginning of Windswept's functioning, things that had left the hole in Drift's spark and the pain that he had been able to occasionally ease, but not heal. In a way he was sure that he had been providing a wonderful excuse for the two of them to dance around the subject without actually facing it.

"All the more reason to convince them that I will be fine for a little while." He concluded, moving a piece across the board that Thorn promptly claimed.

"To be fair, Drift's training is a better excuse to avoid facing it than you," Thorn pointed out. "The half days he's getting off are more than most get. It'll add a vorn or two to his time as an Initiate, but even Dai Atlas recognizes that he needs a little personal time." He paused and chuckled faintly. "And our mighty leader is even more vulnerable to Wing's pleading look than the first time. One of those jets that raised him as a sparkling taught him it _very_ well."

"Fireflight, Drift calls him. An Aerialbot and an Autobot, though not one that I ever met." The stories that Drift and Wing had both told him of the flighty mech did explain a great deal though, often leaving Windswept laughing or shaking his helm in disbelief by the time they were done.

"I'm half hoping the gestalt finds its way here," Thorn admitted. "I think it would be quite interesting to have them meet Wing now ... and for Dai Atlas and Axe to meet them. It would be quite a show, I think."

"So it would. They weren't on Cybertron when I was there." He paused, looking up at Thorn curiously. "Is Wing that different now, from before?"

"Not really, not in the important ways," Thorn smiled warmly at memories. "He's the same friendly, playful, passionate, stubborn, youthfully rebellious and sensual jet he was before. He _remembers_ everything that happened before, though his frame doesn't know the training. That's gotten him in trouble more than once."

"Jumping in thinking he can only to find out he really can't?" Windswept guessed, a slight edge of satisfaction in his field as his next move went far better than his last.

"Yap," he chuckled, moving a guardian to threaten one of Windswept's city-mechs. "More often than not it's been funny, though I'm sure the best moments happened with the Aerialbots when he was learning to fly. His frame is very close to his old one now, but his youngling frame definitely wasn't anything like his adult one."

"And the style of the City is rather different." Windswept could see where that would have been a problem, and all of the chaos that it would have caused as well. "I'll have to find time to just watch him fly some time."

"Oh, definitely," Thorn encouraged him. "He's a joy to watch. He can do things in the air very few can. His frametype is incredibly overpowered for its mass. Originally it was designed as a stunt frame, and he knows how to use it the way it was designed."

That bit of information only strengthened Windswept's resolve to see the white jet in the air. He had always loved flying and heights, and just imagining Wing in the air with the jet's grace on the ground was enough to make him shiver.

"I'm sure if you mention it, he'd be delighted to show off for you," Thorn suggested. "He can even fly backwards."

A laugh burst from the blue mech as he tried to picture that in his processor and failed. He would have to bother Wing enough to at least find out if that was true. "Has that talent gotten him in trouble?"

"When he was first leaning to fly, oh yes," Thorn snickered and moved a rookie. "Most fliers go through a 'if startled, take off' stage. Well, when you have engines powerful enough to lift you off at 10% power, that reaction can send you into ceilings, walls or any mecha that might be around. On his first time around, all sorts of underground obstacles were available too. Don't know why, but Wing has always had a tendency to cling to anything he runs into. It's adorable, and great image captures."

"Oh...I don't suppose you have some of those images and would be willing to share some time?"

"Happy to," Thorn grinned and databurst a few choice images, including a series of ones involving Dai Atlas having to pry his young creation from a thick stalactite. "Do you have any you care to share of either of your mechs?" he purred, his field giving no doubt that he would be just as happy with pleasure as embarrassing.

Windswept considered, sorting through his memory files for a klik before settling on an image that he hoped would be a fair trade. It was one of Wing and Drift, wrapped in each other arms and lips locked in a passionate kiss. Nothing they hadn't done in public, but with the extra intimacy of being on a berth and being taken by one they trusted to be with them.

Thorn's turbines revved in appreciation. "Very nice. You're very lucky, having both of them."

"I know." Just how aware he was of that fact was obvious in the tone of the blue mech's voice. Drift was still the center of his existence, taking care of the Initiate his main concern, but Wing had become such a part of his functioning that he could no longer imagine life without the white jet.

It earned a warm smile from Thorn. "I hope I'm that lucky one orn."

"I never dreamed of this. It seems that Primus saw fit to give it to me anyway." Windswept commented, sweeping two of Thorn's pieces in a move that also allowed him to place one of his own back into play. "Perhaps he will see fit to grant you your spark's desire."

"I can only hope, and be open to it from unexpected quarters," Thorn agreed. "Wing did, and you see what it earned him. The creation of the leaders of the Circle and a hate-filled Decepticon ... not a match you'd expect to end with what they have."

Windswept had to laugh softly. "No, not a combination one would expect to be on it's way to a true sparkbond."

Thorn nodded, humming as he considered his next move. "Mind answering a personal question?"

"About me? Ask." There was little about himself that Windswept felt the need to hide.

"What's it like, to be sparked with a _purpose_ to center your existence on?"

Windswept went still, considering the question and his answer. Finally he vented softly. "In a way, it's comforting. To know exactly what you are supposed to do and be. At the same time, when you exist for a single purpose you don't want to think about ever losing that purpose because then you have _nothing_."

"Drift was at risk of being lost more orn than not, I expect," Thorn said gently. "Did you have any plan for what to do, if he was deactivated?"

"The main core of any plan was for me to make my way to the Autobots. Drift made sure I was in their registered as a non-combatant and dependant, which granted me aid and protection, should something happen. Before the programming was lifted I had specific directions to find a medic by the designation of Ratchet so that he could hopefully remove the slave coding." Windswept explained, optics dimming a bit as he recalled the pain that even just making those plans had caused.

With a sigh he looked up to meet Thorn's gaze. "Eventually I would have tried to return his Great Sword, if I was able. After that...I don't know."

"You would have found welcome and an offer to remain here," Thorn said easily, reaching out with slender fingers to cover Windswept's in an offer of comfort. "You're the sort this city was built for."

"An offer I might have accepted." Windswept admitted. The City was growing on him the longer he lived in its boarders, the ideals it stood for and lived by seeping slowly into his very spark. "If I was able."

Thorn cocked his helm. "Why wouldn't you be able to?"

"I'm not sure that I would have wanted to continue functioning." Windswept admitted, slightly ashamed of the fact even if it was the truth. "I am also not entirely sure what all was in the coding the medic removed. My ability to continue functioning might well have been tied to Drift's continued functioning at some point in time."

Thorn, unlike most who heard it, didn't growl. Instead his field extended in a mixture of sympathy and acceptance. "Well, you don't have to worry about that any more. The coding is gone, you have a home no matter what happens to them, and it's unlikely either will be deactivated anytime soon."

"Things for which I thank Primus often." Windswept smiled at Thorn, even if he was sure that losing either of them, much less both of them, would break him.

A warm smile was the jet's response before he focused on the game for a long moment. "I know Drift's still paranoid, but I have noticed you out and about on your own in the common areas a few times. It's very good to see you as more than a shadow to your mates."

"Drift worries, even here where he knows I am safe." The smile on the blue mech's face was one of genuine affection for his mate. "I've been trying, when they will allow me."

Even if more than once he had gone running back to them shaking when he pushed himself too far, at least he was able to _try_ now, and willing to try again when the first time didn't work.

"I'm sure that's anytime you're in Wing's charge," Thorn chuckled, knowing his fellow Knight well. "And I'm sure he was just around the corner, even if you didn't know it."

Considering how close Wing had been when he needed him, and what he was still learning of the white jet, Windswept could believe it. "I would not be surprised. Not that he would admit it either."

"Of course not," Thorn smiled warmly. "That would imply that he didn't have absolute faith in your readiness to be on your own anywhere you chose to be. Wing would never permit a hint of that lack of faith to be known, even if we all know he's close because he cares, not because he doesn't trust."

Windswept hummed in agreement, frowning a little not at Thorn's comment, but at the board set out before him and the position he found himself in at the moment. Finally he settled on a move and returned to the conversation. "Wing has been a great help."

"I'm sure that makes him happy," Thorn smiled, sure of his friend's reaction. "Have you gotten out into the city much yet?"

"Some. Mostly when Wing has time to go with me and indulge my curiosity. I think he has taken me to most of the gardens." Windswept smiled at the memories. "Is there something you would recommend seeing?"

Thorn nodded, humming thoughtfully at much at the question as the board as he contemplated his next move.

"Have you been to the central library, museums or any of the shopping districts?"

"The library yes." Windswept's optics lit at the mention of one of his favorite places. "Not to any of the museums. To one of the shopping districts once." He added, touching the marker on his chest unconsciously.

"How does it feel, to wear that?" Thorn was decidedly interested. "Wing trills and flutters every time he thinks of it. It's terribly cute."

The blue mech looked up, startled as he realized what he was doing and smiled. "Good. It's-" It was a reminded that the wearer was loved, wanted, desired, _special_ to someone. "Good. Does he really?"

"Yes," Thorn couldn't help but chuckle. "He's _so_ happy to have you both, that you're both are willing to wear such a blatant statement that you are _his_. It means so much to him."

The smile on Windswept's face was sincere and deeply affectionate. "His. I was afraid at first, when we came and he was here, that he wouldn't like me."

Thorn nodded, his field rich with _understanding-sympathy_. "And if that happened, Drift would choose him over you. Fortunately, as possessive as Wing can be when he gives his spark, as long as you didn't threaten to take Drift from him, he was already predisposed to like you because Drift does. Being truly exclusive isn't particularly natural to most mecha, and definitely isn't normal to jets. I think it has more to do with losing Drift than anything inherent to Wing. It just doesn't fit with his otherwise easy-going and free pleasure nature."

Windswept nodded. If it had come to making a choice he knew he would have come out the loser. It was something he knew as clear as his own designation, had known his entire functioning. He loved them, and they cared for him, but Wing and Drift resonated on a level he would probably never be able to attain.

"Even trying to steal him away from Wing was never an option." Windswept murmured. Besides the fact that it was impossible, that would have hurt and angered Drift, two crimes the small blue mech would never willingly commit. "I would have left first."

The black mech cocked his helm, catching something in his companion's field that didn't make much sense. "Surely there are options other than deactivation?"

Windswept's field pulled away, closer to his frame for a moment, before easing back again. "Maybe there are." But that path was one his spark knew, like it had followed it before and knew the way.

"You're an old one," Thorn's tone was threaded with awe, his field flaring briefly with _surprise-respect_. "Do you _remember_ anything, from before?"

"Before? Before what?" Honest confusion flickered in Windswept's field at the new line of questioning. Everyone else seemed to think he was far too young for what he was.

"Before your spark was put in this frame," Thorn explained. "I think that's what I felt. Like Wing's spark, first time around, your spark isn't new to living."

Windswept thought about it for a long moment, optics going dim as he focused on searching. When they brightened once more his helm moved in a small motion of denial. "Nothing that isn't my functioning with Drift, or the time after I came online before I was given to him."

A small disappointment showed on Thorn's features. "That seems to be true for everyone, though some of the Knights who bond to their previous Great Sword get flashes of previous lives now and then. Wing is unique in remembering almost fully."

"Nothing. Sorry." Windswept apologized, scooting a piece out of the way of danger on the board.

"It's okay," Thorn reassured him. "It's just something I find interesting. Every so often someone does remember, or at least has a sense of what it was like."

"Sometimes I get a feeling that something is _right_ , or something is familiar, but nothing that I could describe. And probably not what you are looking for."

"It's still interesting," the black jet smiled and moved his cityformer to protect his Prime better. An unnecessary move, but one that would assist the game in lasting. "It's fascinating that the spark remembers things, but not everything. Those of us with or from Great Swords know a bit about why _we_ do, but the only research I know of about regular mecha's spark memories was done by priests."

"That would be reasonable. Few others would be likely to have access to the information needed to make the connections."

"The trouble is, they aren't _scientists_. They might gather information, but priests take too much on faith to really study anything critically," Thorn sighed. "I respect their dedication, but if they _know_ anything I don't, they aren't convincing about it."

Windswept could see the dilemma, even if there was nothing that he could do about it. "There is a good chance that we may never know." He observed quietly. "Maybe we aren't supposed to."

"At least not when we're in a frame," Thorn nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised, but it doesn't make it any less interesting to try and understand." He offered an apologetic smile. "I'm just too curious for my own good sometimes."

"I don't mind. It is an interesting thought." Just one that the blue mech was not inclined to follow much farther than the observations that he had already shared.

"Any interesting thoughts that you do want to talk about?" he offered-asked.

Windswept paused, thoughtful, before his next move. "Not on the serious level of what we have been discussing." He admitted with a smile.

"It doesn't need to be serious," Thorn chuckled. "Not everything that's interesting is serious. Those stories of Wing were interesting, but hardly serious. So what about hobbies? I know you've always got book files checked out to read."

"The mecha at the Central Library know me on sight." Windswept admitted. "I enjoy reading, studying. It was something that was easy to do on a small ship while traveling, and a renewable source of entertainment. I'll read just about anything. I'm working through a history of the city now."

"There's plenty there," Thorn chuckled. "You know I was here for all of it, right? If you have questions."

Windswept played with one of the pieces, finally setting it down in a rather risky spot. "It seems like a very complete history, especially compared to some that I have read. But it is fact and little else." He looked up from the game. "Was it hard? Leaving everything behind?"

Thorn hummed thoughtfully as he took himself back to those dark, frightening times where a glimmer of hope and faith in a charismatic couple was all one had to go on.

"Some of it was," he admitted. "My lover was a minor noble who trained, but didn't live, at the dojo and refused to leave her House. My creators ... I bid them farewell when I entered training at Master Skyward's dojo, but it still hurt knowing that even after I finished training I would never see them or any of my kin again. The hardest were those of the dojo who chose not to join the Circle of Light, or who left it when Master Dai Atlas made it clear we would not remain on Cybertron."

"Were there many who chose to stay?" Honest curiosity about a time before he had been functioning.

Again he dug in memories he had not accessed in a very long time. "Eight. Not many to most, but for an order than only boasted twenty three, including the Initiates, it was a huge loss. Three of our five masters remained behind. Only Dai Atlas and Axe came with us knowing all there is to know of Metallikato."

To himself Windswept wondered how many of those who chose to stay still functioned. Almost without thought he captured a section of the gameboard, knowing he would lose that piece but considering it a worthwhile sacrifice. "Their choice." He murmured.

"Yes, it was," Thorn agreed, considering the board and his best move for a lingering time. "It was a terrible shock, to have so many, and all three other masters, turn their back on the rightful leader. It simply wasn't done. We are taught to respect our seniors and to follow those who rank us."

"It was a shock that all of you left, or that so many chose to stay behind?" Windswept asked, watching Thorn as the black mech considered the game.

"Both, really," he murmured. "Those that stayed behind went against the orders of our leader, a shock to those of us that followed orders. Those of us who remained faithful likely shocked those that remained behind when we actually entered the ships and were never seen again."

"Ah." Windswept could see that. Still waiting, his processor wandered some, checking the time and wondering what Wing had decided to surprise Drift with for the evening.

Eventually Thorn decided to move a linked pair of rookies to retake the section of the board he'd just lost.

"How is Cybertron doing?" Thorn asked somewhat randomly.

"I may not be the best one to ask. I've only spent a couple of metacycles there, and all of it in Iacon. There, at least..." He paused, considering. "There they have rebuilt a great deal. My spark was called there, and I could see the differences from when I left to when Drift and I returned."

"Sounds like the war on Cybertron is all but over then," Thorn hummed. "Though it didn't sound like it is over out in space."

"I know there was always something to do, and that I pulled him off of more than one battlefield and patched him up after fights. How exactly it is going..." The blue mech shrugged.

His main concern had been how much fighting was going to be required of Drift. There was always a mission, and he had learned during one of their stays at an outpost for repairs that at least for mecha like Drift, there would always be another mission, for as long as he chose to remain an Autobot.

Thorn nodded his understanding. "If you're looking for a battle to fight, I imagine there always is one. I have little doubt that he was trying to get deactivated, but he couldn't manage to give anything but his best in a fight. Suicidal desires and an inability to give up are an agonizing combination to exist with."

Windswept flinched at that assessment, knowing it was true but hurting all the same. "No more." He whispered, prayer and relief at once.

"No, not while Wing functions," Thorn agreed. "Though it might take a while for him to fully assimilate he's not delusional and just imagining all this. Or in the Well already."

Both things Windswept could well believe Drift capable of. "I think for now he believes we are real, and living." A small smile crossed the blue mechs lips. "I think the training he has to endure each day would be enough to convince him that he is not in the Well."

A low rumbling chuckle of deep amusement greeted that. "Too true. Especially with who his teachers are. In the Well he'd either be tormented far worse or enjoy every moment interfacing with both of you."

Windswept laughed softly in agreement. "Very true."

"What is his favorite thing to do, anyway?" Thorn asked, more to maintain the more enjoyable subject than any real care about knowing.

"'Face his partner into recharge." Windswept answered with a smirk, well aware of the pleasure his mate found in that activity, and the sated satisfaction that always came afterward.

"Always up for a challenge and defeating his opponent," Thorn chuckled. "But what a way to have him as an opponent."

"It's not a battle I mind losing." Not that he ever really fought with Drift about anything. "Wing doesn't seem to mind it either."

"Wing is a slut in the very finest tradition of jets," Thorn chuckled. "I'd get his processors checked if he ever did object to a good 'face. How have you been getting along, with Drift so heavily occupied? I remember my Initiate orns, and all I ever wanted to do when I finally finished by chores was collapse and recharge for a couple orns strait."

"I do miss his attention." Windswept admitted. "But the purpose of my functioning has always been to take care of him. I do what I can for him." Including perfecting the art of making his mate at least somewhat presentable while the white mech was recharging.

"I don't doubt it," he smiled warmly. "Drift looks far better than most Initiates manage. I have little doubt that is because of you. It may seem like it'll be a long time, but his schedule will settle in time. You know how much time Wing has. Drift will have that time when his training enters the later stages."

"I look forward to then." Windswept answered, smiling and honestly looking forward to being able for the three of them to spend time together.

"I don't doubt it. I'm sure Drift and Wing are too," Thorn said. "Initiate training is brutally draining in all the ways Drift likely _isn't_ used to. Monotonous katas, long joors, the worst chores and little recharge for decades. The only things he'll never be shorted on are energon and maintenance. It's as much about making sure the Initiate has the desire and ability to make it to Knight before they are taught anything dangerous as it is about drilling the information into them."

"All of which he has, because there is something at the end he wants more than anything." Windswept murmured.

"Oh, we all know that," Thorn reached out to cover Windswept's hand reassuringly. "Just like there was never any doubt Wing would make it. But it's part of making a Knight, something we all share. It would be damaging to Drift's standing and the Order itself for him to receive special treatment."

Windswept laughed softly. "Not that he would accept it even if it was offered." At least not beyond having a half day off more often than usual. But even that 'special' treatment did not lessen the length of his training, merely shifted it some. It was still a bit of special treatment that Windswept was very grateful for, and grateful that Drift accepted. Going a metacycle without interfacing with Drift was a lonely agony. Going without for upwards of a century? He couldn't even contemplate it.

As it stood he was getting close to accepting Wing's offers of attention, something Drift quietly encouraged them both to do when he was too worn out to do more than kiss them, down some energon and drop into the berth for recharge until the alarm dragged him to his pedes for the next day.

"No Initiate that is likely to finish training would," Thorn agreed. "We are not your average mecha, and not only because of the training."

"A good thing. And true." Windswept held nothing but admiration for the Knights, and in his spark he was sure that Drift deserved to be numbered among them, even if the white grounder had doubted it some orns.

"Have you started to earn credits yet?" Thorn asked with casual curiosity.

"I've managed a few odd jobs, here and there." Nothing that had amounted much to anything yet, but there was time, and nothing specific that Windswept was looking for yet that Drift or Wing was unwilling to provide.

"I remember when I was an Initiate, one of the special moments was when I finally had an orn off, my lover treated me to an orn at a detailing center," he suggested. "I'm sure Wing will do it, but I bet it would mean a _lot_ to Drift if you paid for some of it. He knows it means you're feeling good enough to pick up some work."

Windswept stopped in the middle of his move, gamepiece in hand as he considered that. "Thank you. I'll talk to Wing. Maybe we can plan something."

Thorn smiled. "Knowing Wing, he'll be delighted to plot with you over ways to pamper Drift. He's as doting as he can be rebellious. Did Drift ever tell you much about his time here?"

"No. Before I think it was too painful to mention, and now that we are back I don't think he sees a reason to talk about it." Windswept replied, ideas of how to treat his mate swirling in his processor now, and a few ideas that involved doing something special just for Wing dancing among them as well.

Thorn hummed and considered the board absently. "I know a lot of it, I was here after all, but it best for Wing and Drift to tell you. Let's just say that here, and Wing, were what turned him into the Drift you know. He was a _very_ different mech when Wing first dragged his shattered chassis in demanding he be repaired. It was quite a scene, believe me. He wasn't even supposed to be out on the surface, though we all knew he went. But to bring back a _Decepticon_..." he shook his helm. "There was the pit to pay for that one."

"I have heard that Dai Atlas and Axe were not pleased with him then."

Thorn grimaced at the memory. "It was the only time some of us really worried that Wing might not be coming back from his penance," he admitted quietly, playing with his knight as he waited for Windswept to make a move and not really caring if he did. "I can't remember ever seeing Dai Atlas that angry."

Surprise and unease flickered through Windswept's field at the admission as he finally made a move, mostly distracted.

"He did though," Thorn pointed out. "And it turns out that he was _right_ , as painful as it was. It wasn't the first time Wing's rebellions turned out to be the right thing to do. It was the most dramatic though," Thorn cut himself off as he realized he was rambling. "Sorry. I guess the point is that Wing will follow his spark at any cost. Just now ... I hope that it won't be anything quite so dangerous again."

"For everyone's sake." Windswept agreed.

Thorn sighed. "It seems I'm not quite the company I was trying to be," he said quietly, his golden and black wings twitching his displeasure at himself. "That is all in the distant past."

In the black jet's defense Windswept was not being overly helpful himself at keeping the mood light. With that thought in mind the blue mech made a move and attempted to change the direction of the conversation. "We have talked about my hobbies. What do you do in your free time?"

"I'm a scholar," Thorn brightened quickly. "I enjoy studying all sorts of topics, though my favorites are the ones that do not have answers that are likely to ever be known. The true nature of Primus, are there a finite number of sparks, are all mechanical beings related, how old is the Cybertronian race, why do we cycle between horrible wars and periods of peace."

It was quite a contrast to Windswept's own fields of study, which tended to focus far more on the practical, but a curious mech by nature he found even these topics interesting. And the delving off into the realm of theory proved far safer than past topics and a welcome change.


	23. Pleasure and Plotting

White wings fluttered as he finished touching up the sand damaged paint on the spire where he lived. The last of his chores for the day. He could finally spend some time with Windswept. He rather missed the smaller mech's company when it was impractical to work together.

With an easy twitch of his wings he flitted over to Drift's balcony and set down. "Windswept?"

Well used to the white jet simply appearing on their balcony without warning now, Windswept laughed from inside the quarters. "Come in."

A happy trill preceded Wing, who took in the space and occupant with an easy sweep of his optics before his bright smile and warm yellow optics settled on Windswept. "Still enjoying some time to yourself?"

Windswept sighed, before smiling a little. "Some. Are you done for the day?" His own optics traveled over the dirty, scuffed, paint streaked mecha, judging how much work it would take to make him presentable again.

"Yes," Wing nearly draped himself around Windswept, his ever-tactile nature getting the better of him. "Which means I'm free to enjoy some time with you."

"Than I think the first order of business is getting you, and now me, cleaned up." Windswept laughed, shamelessly snuggling into the embrace. The trilling pleasure Wing radiated warmed Windswept in ways a touch couldn't even as he was embraced more.

"Washracks it is then," Wing grinned and nuzzled him before kissing his cheek. "We can get clean and maybe plot what to do for Drift the next time he gets a bit of time off?"

"Wonderful plan." Windswept replied as he guided Wing to the washracks, never losing physical contact with the jet through mutual desire. He turned the solvent shower on and felt as much as heard Wing's groan of appreciation.

The blue mech didn't try to hide a soft laugh as he gathered the soft brushes left there for times like this. Turning back to the white jet he tugged at Wing gently, angling him for an easier reach, and started to work on the grime that had accumulated on the white plating.

Peace crept into Windswept's field as he worked, being able to care for his lovers like this something that he craved, satisfying a need in him. The feeling only intensified when Wing's field twined with his, expressing the jet's pleasure and contentment at the attention.

Turbines spun, warming the air around them and reinforcing Wing's expression of pleasure as sand and dirt was carefully removed from joints and creases, grime scrubbed from flat surfaces, Windswept humming without thought as he worked and smiled.

One hand reached up to run over a slender wing when he finished with it. The white jet was so beautiful, graceful, so open and warm and caring. Pleasure rippled through Wing's field as he moaned at the touch, the slender appendage quivering.

Windswept offered one final stroke before slipping around the jet's frame to start on the front, brush working skillfully into grooves and vents and smirking at the small sounds Wing made. White panels loosened, offering the protoform underneath as well as the edges.

The blue mech laughed and his optics lit up, deeply touched by the show of trust as he cleaned deeper. Finally he stepped back and circled the white jet, seeking anything he might have missed during the course of the very thorough scrubbing. As he came to Wing's back and wings he found a few now that he had greater access to the panels there.

Reaching out he ran a finger lightly over an edge. "Is that a hint?"

Wing shivered at the touch. "Yes," he nearly moaned, spreading his wings and armor further in an offer to anything and everything Windswept meant.

With a purr Windswept set to work, careful even pressure over the sensitive plating and panels, shivering as Wing moaned and leaned into the touches. Unlike Drift, who still had a limited appreciation of being _clean_ other than as a means to display his status, Wing loved every aspect of it. But then, Wing was at least as tactile as Windswept, while Drift just wasn't when he wasn't seeking an overload.

Finally satisfied with his work Windswept planted a light kiss on each wing and stepped back, optics traveling down his own frame quickly to see how much cleaning up he needed to do. There really wasn't much. He kept himself clean by habit and the solvent spray had dealt with the paint Wing had decided to share earlier.

"Let me?" Wing trilled, turning to face his lover's mate.

"It's not bad, the solvent will finish the job..." Windswept murmured even as his field betrayed just how much he wanted what Wing was offering- care and contact and to feel special because it pleased someone else to care.

"Yes, but I like to touch, if you'll let me," Wing tried not to plead, well aware that Windswept would push himself too hard to please others.

The brush was handed over without a hint of hesitation, Windswept moving within easy reach. Most important though was the total trust and the edge of eagerness in the blue mech's field. Wing returned the feeling, the pleasure in caring and causing pleasure of any kind as he began to gently scrub the blue mech, starting at the tip of his small audio horns. His touch light, effective, and oh so sensual.

The blue mech was soon reduced to purring, optics going dim as he just enjoyed the touch on his frame, the closeness of Wing and his field that was doing so much to counter the feeling of loneliness that had been building.

"I want you to be my bonded too," Wing murmured as he paused to press against Windswept's back and wrap his arms around him. "Please, let me be here for you when Drift can not be."

Windswept melted against him. "I miss him." The blue mech admitted, clearly feeling guilty of the fact. "Would like to spend more time with you."

But Wing had a life, duty and responsibilities that were surely far more important than a single, lonely mech. Windswept had no right to make demands of the Knight's time.

"You are always welcome to come with me, even if it's only to watch me," Wing said firmly. "It might help to have more friends too. Thorn likes you. Work would give you something to be productive at. I know you _need_ to be useful." He nuzzled the blue mech. "I'm sorry for the loss, but what you've had with Drift will never happen here, even after he's a Knight. He'll have as many duties as I do. We want you to be happy, as much as we can manage."

Windswept tilted his helm to return the gesture. "I know. I will be." Change was difficult. He knew this, and he was adjusting, just very slowly. "I've found a couple of the chores I don't mind, been trying to get them when they are up to be done."

Wing hummed his pleasure at that. "When you feel safe enough, I'm well known to many of the confection shops. It is not unusual for them to need help now and then. It's work I think you might enjoy. You'll be able to create things that make people happy, and if you're out front, you'll get to interact with happy people. Do you think you'd like that, that it might help the loneliness?"

A flicker of unease at the suggestion of the unknown, but that passed quickly as Windswept nodded. "I would like to try, at least."

"Good," Wing trilled his approval and pleasure before kissing Windswept's neck. "Want you to be happy," he murmured, running his hands down Windswept's sides.

The smaller mech shivered at the touch, pleasure flaring in his field as he pressed against Wing. _Pleasure-desire_ flared back and strong black fingers caressed seams, working inward, across Windswept's abdominal plates.

Windswept moaned at the gentle touch, pressing into it for a moment. A small part of his processor that was still focusing on something besides how good Wing felt made an observation. "Solvent's still on."

Confusion flickered in Wing's field before he reached out to turn it off, then turned his full attention to exploring the flat planes of Windswept's abdominal plates and kissing his neck. "You feel so good."

 _This_ felt so good, Windswept's processor informed him. The touch, the affection, the closeness of someone who genuinely cared about him and honestly wanted him to be happy and well.

Blue hands reached back, seeking to return some of what was being given so freely.

Wing shivered, trilling unconsciously in approval and pleasure. He ghosted his hands lower, one to work into the joint of leg and torso while the other slid between them to tease a finger along the edge of the back valve cover.

Want answered the touch, though the cover didn't give way.

A moment of indecision in Windswept's field, the blue mech hovering on the edge of something before he tilted his helm up. "Berth?"

"Anytime," Wing purred, shivering before his grip shifted and he swept Windswept in his arms to walk to the berthroom. The blue mech curled against him, arms around the jet's neck as he kissed lightly at Wing's face and neck until Wing caught the wandering lips in a searing kiss that expressed as clearly as anything could how much Windswept was _desired_.

The kiss lasted until Wing set his lover down gently on the berth and joined him, reclaiming Windswept's mouth while his hands renewed their exploration of ways to make the blue mech moan.

Any attention to the Windswept's sides and abdomen was enough to earn him small sounds of pleasure and echoing flares in their mingled fields. Blue hands reached up, mimicking the same quest on Wing's frame as they traced over chest and sides, teasing wings when they were in reach.

It didn't take much to know that those slender wings were _the_ hotspot, but any caress of Wing's chest was rewarded with shuddering moans and a wild flare of Wing's field.

It wasn't long before Wing's hands found their way to Windswept's valve cover again, the touch hopeful. This time the cover slid back at his touch, Windswept's hips shifting to press into his hand in offering and want.

"So sweet," Wing murmured, kissing him eagerly as he shifted to kneel between Windswept's legs. His fingers played with the rim nodes and platelets as he leaned forward for another kiss.

Windswept moaned into the kiss, no doubt in his field. He wanted this, wanted to give and to share, wanted the closeness and the pleasure that came with it.

And somewhere in all of that was realization that he wanted Wing for Wing, and no other reason.

He trembled, nearly keening in pleasure as Wing's spike filled his valve, stretching and rubbing, filling Windswept's frame with exquisite pleasure. Soft blue optics flashed brighter, hands stroking over Wing's frame as sensor nodes in his valve flared to life.

"Yes," Wing shivered and moaned as he began to thrust, long and slow, wanting to enjoy and draw out the bliss as long as they could manage.

Blue hips rose to meet each thrust in time, Windswept's hands sweeping over slender white wings. "Wing..." Optics on Wing's, helm lifting to meet to meet the white mech lips in another kiss. This kind of interfacing was so different than with Drift, but wonderful and good all the same. It suited each mech, suited their nature, and without any doubt each mech loved Windswept and wanted to please him with their method.

"Thank you," Wing shivered, his wings trembling against Windswept's hands as he maintained the optic lock. Every movement sent bliss through them both, directly or through their interlinked fields.

The blue mech shook his helm gently, hands moving to trace the sensor laden wing edges. It was he who should be thanking Wing, for accepting him and wanting him.

Thanks flowed through his field, quickly lost in the pleasure but offered all the same.

"You have accepted me as well," Wing insisted before a kiss. His frame trembled with the building overload. He thrust harder, his fingers digging into the berth, beginning to chase the bliss and overload.

Windswept moaned into the kiss, everything forgotten except Wing and the growing charge building in both of them and between them. Hips rolled up to meet each thrust, seeking to take Wing deeper as he continued to play over wings, driving Wing's pleasure and his own. It didn't take much more for their frames to take over, pounding and grinding their interface arrays together until Wing keened and stiffened, pumping hot transfluid into Windswept's valve as the loose charge crackled from one frame to the other and back.

Wing's bliss was enough and Windswept's overload came close on the heels of the jets. His cry of pleasure joined with Wing's, hands clamping down on the white mech and holding tightly as the pent up energy was released.

Contentment and peace filled his spark and spread into his field as Windswept collapsed back on the berth. A purring, content sprawl of white sank down on top of him, their fields echoing the other's state.

Wing nuzzled him before rolling to the side and drawing Windswept against him, more than happy to remain where they were for a while as the blue mech snuggled against him. They both drifted in an easy, content recharge until something triggered the smaller mech's internal alarm.

Windswept didn't panic- the calm of Wing's field still merged with his own and the source code of the alarm saw to that- but it still concerned him as processor came back online.

Understanding was granted as his optics onlined to see Drift standing over them, and not even the small smile on the white grounder's face could stop of the surge of guilt that swelled in him. He started to wiggle out of Wing's arms, already apologizing. "Sorry. The time, wasn't paying attention. Should have set an alarm-."

"Shu," Drift reached down to still Windswept's efforts. "I like this look."

The blue mech settled back against Wing, tension easing away. "You do?"

"Yes," Drift murmured, leaning down to kiss his mate softly. The exhaustion that seemed to be Drift's constant companion was thick in his field, seeming to drag the white mech down, but his pleasure and enjoyment at what he was looking at lifted it as well. "I've been looking forward to when you liked Wing enough for this."

" _Liked_ him for a long time." Windswept murmured when the kiss broke, reaching up to tug gently at his mate. "Settle down and I'll fetch some energon, if Wing will let me go. Then we can all recharge."

He would wake before Drift did, and then he could see to his mate's frame. As deeply as the white grounder recharged anymore, he never noticed when Windswept spent the night cleaning him.

Drift hesitated a moment, then nodded and helped Windswept extract himself by snuggling up with Wing, which was where Drift wanted to be anyway.

Free, Windswept slipped from the berth, fetching energon from the store he kept stashed for Drift and slipping cleaning supplies into his subspace for later so he wouldn't have to leave the berth again.

Returning he slid back onto the berth, touching Drift gently to rouse him from the light recharge he'd already slipped into. "Refuel."

"Mmmph?" Drift's optics lit dimly as he struggled to process the order. Sluggishly he reached out and accepted the cube, gulping it down. "Thanks," he mumbled, letting Windswept take the empty cube and disperse it before he tugged his mate into the berth to snuggle against his other side. "Glad you're finally 'facing Wing without me."

"You don't mind? I like him, a lot." Windswept admitted, snuggling in against his mate and reaching out, fingers slipping under armor to stroke protoform and connectors in a soothing way.

"No, good," Drift murmured, his optics already off again. "He's as much your mate as mine."

Blue fingers stilled for a moment at the words before continuing to work on his mate, a steady purr accompanying the motion now. Leaning closer he nuzzled at Drift. "Recharge."

Windswept waited until he sensed Drift slip into recharge, he snuggled closer. "Love you." He murmured softly before slipping into his own light recharge, alarm set to wake him later in plenty of time to see to his mate.


	24. Courting Mates

Windswept woke to his personal alarm, coming online slowly and assessing his surroundings before moving. He was exactly where had been when he had dropped into recharge, snuggled against his mate on their berth, Drift in Wing's arms and the three of them together, as it should be.

Checking that Drift was still deep in recharge he shifted smoothly on the berth so that he was kneeling over his mate. Optics scanning the white frame critically as he retrieved the supplies he had stashed in his subspace earlier and selected a cloth. Most of the worst spots could be rubbed out with nothing more than a little work. There were a few rough patches, he would see to those if there was time before Drift woke.

The side Drift was laying on he could nothing about, but something was better than nothing.

He couldn't stop the small smile from forming as he looked at his mate and lover ... _their_ lover. A light touch to the palm sized emblem on his chest warmed him; he was wanted, desired ... _loved_ , and not simply because he was useful or they felt an obligation to him.

With that warmth in his spark, he went to work on making Drift as presentable as he could.

"So this is how you manage it," Wing's voice was full of amusement, his optics only dimly lit and a smile on his face.

"He doesn't have the time to take care of it himself, and I can recharge while he trains." Windswept answered softly without looking up from his current task, a stubborn mark on Drift's upper arm. Warmth and affection flooded his field.

"Besides, I like it." Gentle hands ran over the place where the mark had been, checking his work before his optics lifted to meet Wing's. "And it is something he has always let me do."

"It's quite a status symbol, to have someone else to take care of your finish," Wing said easily, his field extending to brush against Windswept's affectionately. "Has he told you how he grew up?"

"No. He didn't talk much about the past. And when he did, he mostly mentioned you."

Satisfied, Windswept moved on to the next spot on Drift's thigh. He frowned, finding it deeper than he had first thought. It wasn't serious, but he was going to put a sealing agent over when he was done to protect it until the self-repair systems fixed it.

"He was put out on the streets within orns of activation," Wing explained softly, his fingers playing lightly over Drift's side. "Survived there until Megatron began gathering his forces. From what he told me, the primary difference was that there was some guarantee of energon because Megatron favored him as an officer. He was given good weapons too. He still had to fight for everything he got."

Wing sighed, his wings shivering against his back at the painful memories he'd gained from Drift before his deactivation, memories so different from either of his own sparklinghoods that they were outright alien. "It all had one thing in common; to have the services of another for _anything_ was not a show of their care, but of your power. Even interfacing was about power, not pleasure." Sadness oozed into his field briefly. "If you've ever felt him hesitate, it's because of that. He's struggling to be a better mecha and grasping that caring for him makes you _happy_ is a difficult thing for him to understand. It goes against everything he knew before this city."

Sudden insight struck Windswept, optics focusing on Drift as he worked. "No ... he never told me anything of before."

He knew that his mate had not had an easy life, had fought for everything that he had been given and still thought of life in that context. It was part of the reason he was also proud of Drift, proud of his mate and being Drift's mate.

"It's not something he shares often," Wing agreed. "I found out because I pushed him, and kept pushing. When I first saw him, watching the slavers from the cliff edge, I saw a bright spark I wanted to keep close." His optics lowered. "That ... bringing him to the city ... revealing myself to him ... it was likely the most selfish thing I've ever done. It's something I have never regretted, even when it cost me my frame."

Affection-thanks pushed against Wing's field, deep and sincere. Understanding from someone else who saw things in Drift when others did not.

"He's never told me how he met you." Windswept commented as he worked.

"I don't know all the details, but he turned on his Decepticon master, a big black tank-mech that goes by Turmoil," Wing's voice was soft and soothing despite the subject matter. "He escaped and crashed on this world. I'm not sure how long he wandered, but we crossed paths when I was on the surface. I broke the law by going up there, but I've never cared. I _had_ to see the sky. It was worth the penance to see sky and stars. It was worth far more when I was able to help those stranded here."

Wing cooed softly, stroking Drift's lightly polished arm. The white grounder never stirred. "The battle against the slavers when we first met went badly. He was completely crushed. He had no business surviving, but he held on until I retrieved his frame and got it to Redline. There was a lot of cursing, but he was repaired." His optics drifted closed. "That penance nearly cost me my functioning. I couldn't regret what I did. I just couldn't. I wanted him. I'd do anything to keep him close."

Windswept hand brushed over his. "Glad you didn't."

"Me too," Wing murmured, them smiled softly at Windswept. "My only regret when I realized I was going to extinguish in the next nanoklik was that I wouldn't be able to see him finish training. That I'd never see him with a Great Sword. That I wouldn't hold him again. But I was so proud at how far he'd come in seven vorns. It was a legacy I was grateful to have."

"Any regrets now?" Windswept asked with a smile of his own, finishing with the spot and adding the sealant.

"None at all," Wing trilled, intense _joy-pleasure_ in his field. "I wish he hadn't left, but I understand why he did. And his choice brought us you."

The blue mech looked away shyly even if he didn't bother to hide the rush of pleasure in his field.

"He has his first free day coming up," Wing changed topics. "I was thinking of doing something special for him."

"Thorn mentioned something like that when you two were out the other evening." Windswept smiled, not too worried about Drift hearing anything as deep as the white grounder was in recharge. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, there's a spa that has kinda specialized in Knights and security mecha," Wing said, not completely sure of himself. "They know how to polish and repair the damage and scuffs we take that almost no one else does. They have polishes and sealants designed to stand up to practice swords. They also grasp that a mirror gloss isn't what we _want_ , even though we want to look good. They also all enjoy a good interface or three as they work."

Windswept hummed softly, considering. His work was passable, but no where near professional, and it would be nice to see his mate completely detailed. And for the rest of it... "Drift would enjoy that..."

Wing's smile was nearly blinding. "What about you? Would you enjoy a day at the spa?"

Windswept looked up, startled. "I...don't know." He confessed. The idea of that many strangers around him, possibly touching him, was still distressing.

"We'd both be in the room," Wind added, hoping he wasn't pushing too hard. "And it would only be one attendant, two at most. You wouldn't have to do anything but stand still and let them work."

Windswept nodded slowly, thinking it over. "You were thinking for all three of us?"

Wing smiled and nodded. "A day at the spa, enjoying everything the city can offer without moving a servo. It's good to be completely pampered now and then."

The idea... Windswept's hands moved slower as he considered that. It sounded too good be true. Too good for someone like him. He had been working, saving the credits he made as Thorn had suggested with the intent of putting them toward Drift and Wing- he had planned all along to suggest that the jet spend the day with his, their, mate- but never imagined himself being with them.

"Perhaps you and Drift..." He started, hesitant, and hesitated more when he felt Wing's entire presence droop.

"But you're our mate," Wing whispered. "I want to pamper you too."

"You do?" A quiet question, and the mech asking hopeful.

"Windswept," he reached out to stroke his fingers over the intended marker on the blue mech's chest. "I _mean_ this. We are equals in the bond. You may _choose_ to follow, but you are always worth as much as Drift or myself."

Gentle fingers rose to cover Wing's, the blue mech holding on for moment. What Wing was saying...it went against everything he had ever been taught about his place in the way things _should_ be. What he had always been.

But here was different. Wing and here had changed Drift. For the better. If it changed Windswept as well...was that such a bad thing?

"I-I would love to spend a day with you and Drift."

Wing's smile turned brilliant, his field flooded with _happiness-pleasure-YES_. "Thank you," he leaned over Drift to kiss Windswept softly.

Windswept leaned into the kiss, his field mixing with Wings. "So are you just planning to surprise him?" He nodded in Drift's direction.

"As much as I ever do," Wing grinned and settled back. "You know how well he takes _real_ surprises."

"Not well." Windswept grumbled, good nature under the words as he went back to works, hands moving quickly and skillfully over the familiar frame. He would never have the time and access needed to keep Drift as good as he wanted, but it still felt good to get him this presentable.

"There's a skill involved in surprising him," Wing chuckled, watching Windswept work. "Want help rolling him over?"

"Please. I usually don't get to the other side." Windswept answered, laying his things aside and scooting on the berth so there would be room to move Drift.

He could move the larger mech by himself, but it wasn't easy and he wasn't willing to risk waking Drift when he needed the recharge so badly. It was much easier for Wing. Even though Drift was heavier than the jet, he was also a bit smaller and the jet was built for strength, built for war. It was a little awkward and included several nuzzles and stroking caresses, but it didn't take much for Wing to roll Drift over and settle against him again, his field soothing the white grounder fully into deep recharge again before Drift came fully up.

"Thank you." Windswept murmured, setting to work again and clearly pleased at being able to see to most of Drift's frame that night. He noticed Wing's hands and smiled a little. "You next?" He suggested quietly.

Slender wings quivered and a spike of excitement shot through Wing's field. "If you have the energy, I'd love it."

"Of course." Windswept smiled. "When I'm done with Drift." He checked the time. "He'll be getting up soon."

"And then he'll be off for another day of tedious lessons and even more tedious chores," Wing chuckled and settled back, content to watch Windswept's contentment at caring for Drift. It felt so good to be near that contentment and quiet joy.

"To come back this evening to refuel and recharge. So I can clean him up again." Windswept finished affectionately.

Wing chuckled softly. "Only for a few more decades. Then he'll be through the hazing and onto real acceptance and training."

"That's nice to know." Windswept murmured, smiling. Drift was holding up well, considering how frustrating he knew this must be for his headstrong mate. Still ... decades. This was going to last longer than Windswept had been functioning, possibly much longer.

"And something he's technically not supposed to know," Wing cautioned. "I know he has an idea of it, but he's not supposed to _know_."

"Know what?" Windswept tilted his helm, optics glowing teasingly before he promised. "I won't tell him."

Wing nodded, relaxing against Drift's side and watching Windswept work, _feeling_ Windswept work. The contentment radiating off the smaller blue mech was delightful as he finished the morning's detailing on Drift.

Optics swept over Drift in one last check before settling on Wing. "Want me to start on you, or wait until he up and gone for the day?"

Wing hummed, then smiled. "Come snuggle with him so he wakes warm between us."

Windswept purred, settling in behind Drift with his frame pressed against his mates in delight. He wasn't going to slip into recharge, but it was so very nice to just relax and soak in the affection-acceptance that was Wing and the sweet calmness that was Drift in recharge. Wing reached out and rested one hand on Windswept's arm across Drift's frame and settled into a very light recharge, content with the arrangement and what it spoke of their future.

It wasn't long before Drift's internal alarm went off, dragging him reluctantly out of recharge. Warmth was all around him, making him want to sink back down before he even booted up. Wing and Windswept's fields were meshed fully with his, offering all the _affection-love-comfort_ the pair were capable of. As reluctant as he was to move, his field pulsed with _affection-yes-desire_ towards both of them.

Amusement slipped into Windswept's field, and with it the gentle touch of the blue mech nuzzling at the back of his helm. "It is time to get up."

"I'know," Drift mumbled, dragging the rest of his systems on line. He got enough energon and recharge to function, but it was only _just_ enough. This phase, and it had to be a phase, would not end soon enough for him. The menial tasks and repetitive katas he was finding easier than he expected; he'd spent too long doing whatever was needed to survive to be bothered by it for long.

But the lack of recharge and empty reserve tank triggered so many horrible memories he faltered too often. It confused his instructors, but he wouldn't ... _couldn't_ ... explain. Wing knew, at least enough.

The white jet kissed him as his optics lit. It was enough, the promise of pleasure and security, to pull him fully coherent to kiss back.

"Want fuel before you go?" Windswept asked softly when the kiss broke, an offer to fetch some before Drift had to be out the door and on his way.

"Yes," he nodded, reluctantly following Wing out of the berth. He'd need it. He always needed it.

Windswept had slipped from the berth as soon as Drift had agreed, the cube ready and waiting for his mate when the white mechs emerged from the berthroom.

"Thanks," Drift said as he took the cube, drinking quickly to sate the twitchy part of himself at having anything but completely full tanks. He handed the empty cube back and caught Windswept in a heavy kiss that left the blue mech all but melted and Wing smiling happily.

Reluctantly Drift let go and stalked towards the door and into the long orn ahead of him.


	25. A Flash of Blue

Slender white wings refused to remain in their fold. He and Windswept went all over the city together, but almost never on a _date_. There were tickets for a late concert of classical music from the early Golden Age and reservations for an early meal at a casual restaurant that specialized in Praxian culture from the servers to the decor to the food to the live music that played.

Even though he'd had the codes for a long time, he stopped and knocked on the door. Drift had finished a little early; he was becoming quite skilled at the drudgery he was assigned and had insisted very firmly that he wanted nothing more than to enjoy an extra joor and a half of recharge.

The door slid away, Windswept greeting him with a smile. "Yes, he finished early, and yes, he is already recharging."

"I'm not surprised," the white jet could barely contain his excitement as he offered his hand to the mech he was courting. "Ready to enjoy an evening out?"

"Yes." Answering excitement swirled through the blue mech's field as he took Wing's hand and stepped out the door. Messages had been left for Drift, even though the white warrior was well aware of what the plans were for the evening and they knew he wouldn't be cycling up until his alarm went off well after they planned to return.

Out of respect for different frametypes, they walked through the city, hand in hand, fields lightly meshed and humming with _pleasure-excitement_.

"So where are we going?" Windswept asked, delighted at just being out with Wing in first place, and just slightly unsure at what the difference of this being an actual 'date' made.

"Dinner is at Danic's, a nice Praxian diner with live music and a dance floor if you feel like it," Wing nearly vibrated in his anticipation. "Then we have first balcony tickets to The New Crystal City Orchestra."

Windswept twitched, knowing that Wing had planned to take him to a concert, but that! Excitement flooded his field before he got himself under control again. "It sounds wonderful."

"Good," Wing leaned over and nuzzled him. "They're playing _The Exodus_ tonight."

"I look forward to hearing it." Windswept smiled, tilting his head to up to kiss the jet's helm lightly. As excited as he was, it was wonderful beyond measure to feel how happy Wing was at Windswept's reaction.

White wings shivered and clicked against polished back armor. The suns were still clear in the sky, barely into the late afternoon. The city was pristine, gleaming with a polished finished unmarred by the sandstorms it endured many times a vorn. While the city retreated underground for the worst of them, the lighter storms and daily wind blown sand was simply endured, swept away and the buildings refinished as needed to maintian integrity and appearence.

The wind was light enough right now to be refreshing rather than abrasive and the streets were full of mecha walking and driving about their lives, be it work, chores or simple enjoyment. Above them the airframes that were so common here flitted about, enjoying the warm, pleasant weather and open skies.

Windswept was distracted by several flying overhead, dancing around one another simply because they were in the sky and in good company. A small shudder ran through his frame as he watched them play among the buildings.

"Would you like to fly home?" Wing trilled, taking note of the fliers ... and making a note to himself to see if it was possible to change Windswept's frame to that of a flier. The small mechs fascination with airframes and flying hadn't escaped Wing, and while he'd never have the coding a sparked flier would have, it was possible he could be taught the basics.

"Yes!" Windswept's optics brightened at the idea of flying, and flying with Wing. "I was brought online with the basic pilots programming for practical reasons. Drift taught me how to the fly our ship, and encouraged me to study more."

While there was a practical side to Windswept being able to handle the ship, it had helped that he had enjoyed flying from the first time he had lifted into the air. He had never experienced it from the point of view of someone who could fly independently as Wing could, but he had always wanted to see what it was like.

"If you want, I can share what it's like to fly for me," Wing cooed, caught up in Windswept's excitement. "A few good memory files."

"Later?" Windswept asked, assuming Wing was thinking after the evening out. "Please. I've always wondered what it would be like, but to be able to see it the way you do would be...exciting."

"When we get back," Wing grinned, his wings fluttering happily to be able to share that part of himself. "Drift panicked the one time I tried to share that kind of memory, but you aren't nearly as bothered by heights or flying. I hope you enjoy it like I do."

The blue mech smiled, pleased at finding something else he could share with Wing that they both enjoyed. At the moment the evening was shaping up to be wonderful, and they hadn't even gotten to dinner yet.

They walked in the pleasant early evening until Wing guided Windswept into a comfortably intimate restaurant with hauntingly sweet music being played by a group of Praxian frametypes, two grounders and four fliers, using instruments that Windswept had never seen before.

The blue mech stumbled a little, trying to take the new in as Wing guided him to their seats. "This is a Praxian establishment," Wing explained. "A little piece of Praxus in New Crystal City."

"It's different." Windswept commented, his optics finally sweeping around the rest of the establishment. His tone made it clear that this was not a bad thing, just curious. The decor, the band, the dancefloor that Wing had mentioned before.

Curious blue optic settled back on Wing as they waited. "Do you dance?"

"I enjoy it," Wing's optics glittered. "In the sky or on the ground, I love it. Mine's a stunt frame by design. It makes me very partial to moving."

Windswept hummed, considering that. He hadn't danced in public since just before the slave programming was lifted, and never with a partner. Did he dare risk it? Did Wing want to dance with _him_?

"You're adorable when you're thinking," Wing trilled with a smile as a Praxian airframe slid by, silently placing two menus on the table along with a small tray of iron-crusted quartz puffs.

"Just when I'm thinking?" Windswept asked quietly with a small smile, helm tilted slightly to the side.

Wing laughed lightly and picked up a menu. "Hardly. You're often adorable."

The blue mech laughed as well, picking up a menu and looking it over slowly, optics picking out items he was familiar with but also finding many new dishes that he was not. The descriptions were informative though, telling him which ones were sweet, which were rich and which were bitter overall. While the preparations were more complex than the cafe Wing sometimes took him to it was nowhere as complex as the menu from their first date.

"I haven't had anything here that wasn't good," Wing smiled. "Just read the descriptions for ingredients you aren't fond of."

"This one looks good." Windswept rested a finger on one, the base ingredients solid as he liked and the additive seasons making it a sweeter dish without being too rich.

"It is," Wing agreed before picking up one of the quartz puffs. "It suits your tastes too." With that he flicked a wing slightly, drawing their waiter over and smoothly ordering both their meals.

"And these?" Windswept asked, helping himself to one of the puffs but studying it before taking an experimental nibble. Crunchy, lightly sweet but mostly texture under the savory iron.

"I could get addicted to them," Wing cracked a grin at his date. "They'll just keep bringing them until you turn the basket upside down."

Windswept was purring with the first real bite. "Than you might have to do that soon." Or he would make a meal of these and have no room left for the rest of his meal.

A snicker crossed the table as Wing snagged a second one. "I know your pain. I always have to restrict myself to a single basket. They're _so_ good. I keep telling the owner she should sell them, but she just smiles and shakes her helm, telling me that would go against tradition. Praxians love their traditions."

"There are worse things they can love. And it is a good thing they don't sell these." Windswept grabbed another one for himself. "I don't think I would eat anything."

"You and half the patrons," Wing's wings wiggled happily. "Between these and jellies, it's amazing we manage to refuel with real energon."

"If they were any easier to get I don't think we would." Windswept laughed, helping himself to the last one.

"So true," Wing agreed and flipped the basket over. "We can get more if we have room in our tanks after we eat."

Windswept laughed, contemplating trying to save some room anyway. His optics scanned the restaurant again. "Are there a lot of places like this in the city? Traditional ones?"

"Quite a few," Wing said after thinking about it. "It is a delicate balance, preserving Cybertron's culture without preserving the issues that created so much violence."

"It was that bad?"

"Worse, probably," Wing said quietly. "I was created here, lived my entire functioning on this world. When Fireflight raised me, the war was mostly over. I think they sheltered me even more than Dai Atlas and Axe did my first time. What Drift shared with me..." he shuddered, his wings drooping sharply. "I still can't wrap my processors around what his world was like."

Windswept couldn't either, even with everything that he had seen for himself and been told by those who had lived through it. "It's different now, I think."

"I hope so, or all that death and destruction accomplished nothing," Wing whispered before forcing his distress down. This was supposed to be a wonderful evening, not one to grieve things neither of them had ever known. "What little I saw was full of hope."

Windswept's field reached out, brushing against Wing's with the feelings of being here in New Crystal City. Joy of being with those with those he loved and cared about him, the beauty and the peace of city, and simple, pure happiness of being here with Wing.

The jet smiled warmly in return, his field entwining with Windswept's in an expression of thanks and reassurance that things were well.

The blue mech smiled, reaching out his hand for the physical contact as well. His fingers were entwined with black as the pair enjoyed the music and company in relative silence until their meals arrived.

He was so content that when their meals arrived Windswept let go reluctantly.

The first taste of his meal, sampled with all due appreciation, made the loss of contact worth it. It was as good as Wing had promised, and after a few minutes of enjoying his in silence Windswept said as much.

White wings swept up in pleasure before settling again and Wing's smile could have lit the room. "I'm glad you like it. It's my favorite place to enjoy a meal and music, and maybe a dance or two."

"Is there any place in the city you don't like?"

Wing's optics cycled, too startled by the unexpected question to answer right away. "Umm, I'm really not keen on the underground parts, especially the sewers. I don't like the foundry either. My wings almost melted when I did my tour there. I'm not built for that kind of punishment for long."

"I can understand that." Windswept said, shaking his helm in amusement and understanding. At least they were logical dislikes for a jet. Enclosed spaces and things that damage his wings. Even if Wing didn't require his small wings to fly, it was hardcoded into every flier's very spark to be hyper-protective of them.

"What about you? Have you found anything you don't care for yet?" Wing asked.

"Not in what I have seen here in the City." The blue mech was well aware that there was still much that he had not seen, time and his own fears holding him back in some places, practicality in others. "New Crystal City is...very unlike any place that I have ever been before."

Wing's smile brightened. "Very true. The city is the best of what Cybertron was capable of, preserved and perfected."

"Have you considered leaving again?" Windswept asked, curious.

"I thought about visiting the Aerialbots after I was Knighted to show them what I'd made of myself, but other than that, no," he shook his helm. "I have no desire to leave. This is my home. It always has been."

"Waiting until Drift is done with training now?"

Wing shook his helm. "I finished training long before you were created. I decided not to go. They're good mecha, but I never had that strong a connection to them. Memories came back too soon for much of a creator bond to form."

Windswept considered that. It wasn't something that he could really understand, with nothing to compare it to. He focused on his meal for a bit before asking quietly. "What's it like...coming online and knowing...nothing?"

"Normal," Wing could only shrug his wings, then settled thoughtfully. "The whole universe is open for the taking. Anything you want to be, you can be. I didn't need to become a Knight, not that first time. My creators were opposed to training me until I started to train myself. My first real act of defiance. I watched, I recorded and I stole a practice sword to work with until they caught me. Disappointing them hurt like nothing I could imagine, but they trained me and I think they're proud of what I accomplished."

"Disappointing?" Windswept murmured, trying to understand how they would be disappointed in Wing. 

The entire idea of being able to make your own choices, to be anything you wanted to be, was processor stopping him. But Wing had called it...normal.

"That didn't want me to ... well, they didn't want to risk what happened. A Knight is a warrior. We're here to extinguish to defend the city. I don't think they were disappointed in me, exactly. As the vorns passed I learned more and more designations of the mecha they'd raised and watched extinguish. Coming back I saw how losing me had nearly broken Dai Atlas. Maybe had broken him."

Revelations ... Windswept had expected that, had understood it on some level. But hearing Wing _say_ the truth, the duties of a Knight...

He vented roughly, forcing those thoughts from his processor. "But you're back now."

"By the grace of Primus, and possibly the fact that I'm no better at following the rules in the Well than I am out here," Wing chuckled.

"A good thing for everyone else." Windswept smiled, relaxing once more.

"Mmm, I'm quite pleased with the results so far," Wing purred, reaching over to stroke Windswept's hand. "I was hoping to get Drift back. I never thought I'd have a shot at more."

The sound that escaped Windswept was a mix of embarrassment and pleasure, finally accepting of the fact that at least in Drift and Wing's optics he was valued, even if he still had trouble grasping why.

"You have time," Wing assured him. "You're young still. Give it a few centuries and you'll wonder why you doubted."

Windswept nodded, adding it to that list of things that Wing had told him insisting that he would understand some day and just accepting them as they were for now. A shift in the music had him turning his helm a little, distracted even as he maintained his grip on the white jet's hand.

Wing waited until his date had adapted to the new music, a slightly more upbeat tune suited to youthful, civilized dancing. "What was your favorite place to go?"

The blue mech looked at him, processing the question. "When I traveled with Drift?"

"Anywhere before New Crystal City," Wing clarified, including whatever time it took to reach Drift.

Windswept thought about it for a little while, hand absently rubbing over Wing's. "We never stayed in one place long enough for me to really get attached to any one place. Not like here. There were some ports I liked better than others. The longest we were in one place was Cybertron, though I've never been in any other city than Iacon. That alone was different than most places. The music there, after I was able to go out in the city, I enjoyed."

"Do you have any files of what you liked?" Wing perked up. "Fireflight loved music, but they were very Earth-centric overall, even when we lived on Cybertron."

"Yes." His music collection was actually rather large, one of the few things that he had not traded out very much when they had stopped, but that he had taken every opportunity to add to. And added he had, from all over. "I'll get them out when you have some free time and we can go through them."

"Sounds great," Wing trilled excitedly. "We can see what of my collection you like too."

"Do you have music from Earth? That's something that is hard to find."

"From certain timeframes," Wing nodded. "Fireflight loved music from there and Jazz has the biggest music collection short of Blaster. I raided all three regularly," he grinned cheekily. "Even did some trading with Soundwave's cassettes, though Jazz put a stop to that as soon as he found out." Wing shuddered and rubbed the side of his helm. "The anti-viral scrub Ratchet put me through was not something I ever want to go through again."

"I met Jazz." Windswept smiled. He could believe the officer had a large music collection, just from the little bit that he seen. "And Ratchet as well. You got on his bad side?"

"Only for a couple joors," Wing chuckled. "I was a _really_ cute sparkling. I think he was more scared for me than angry at me."

Windswept nodded. "I think he liked me well enough. He was always nice to me." A good thing, considering how terrified the blue mech had been at that point in time, having his programming altered and waking up having to adjusting to that.

"Oh, if he was displeased with you, you'd know it," Wing assured him. "Ratchet did not hold back," he chuckled.

Windswept nodded. He'd gotten that impression as well. "When were on Cybertron I was able to see some of the culture in Iacon. Mostly the street markets and some of the local bars. There Drift was always with me. Some of the port markets I would go out on my own..."

"Markets?" Wing cooed, nearly a trill, his wings fluttering with good memories. "What did you like to shop for?"

"Anything and everything." Windswept smiled, since it was an activity he did enjoy. "I learned how to bargain and haggle early, mostly from watching Drift. After I could do that I did a lot of the resupply for the ship. And when I was out and there were enough extra funds available I was allowed to get extra files for myself."

"Good," Wing purred, pleased that Drift was that fair.

"After I learned some of the ports some of the traders got to know me as well, and occasionally I was able to trade old files that I no longer wanted for new ones with them," Windswept said, thinking back on what had been such a large part of his existence when he was alone with Drift.

There was even one trader, and older organic, who would sometimes throw in extra file or two if Windswept had a story to trade. They were good times, and he was so very proud when Drift began to trust him with the funds to buy what they would need.

"You'll be able to do that here too, once you get to know who has use for older files," Wing smiled, thrilled to have found something new after a vorn around the smaller mech.

There was a hint of excitement that crept into Windswept's field at the suggestion, a desire for a return to what had been normal for him that had been lacking for so long. "Do you know of some places like that? That you would be willing to show me sometimes?"

He was saving most of the credits he had managed to start earning around the Citadel for the day that he and Wing had planned for Drift, but he had been putting some of them aside even from that. Being able to buy files of his own, that he had earned himself, would be so different.

"I'd be happy to," Wing crooned. "Music and book files from modern Cybertron would be worth a lot in trade if you don't have the credits for something."

"I have some book files that I would be willing to trade." His music he held on to much more tightly, but the books he would trade once he'd read them.

"Hey, you don't _have_ to trade anything," Wing reminded him. "Unless you're after something incredibly rare and not electronic a copy will be available when you have the funds."

"And I'm not going anywhere." Windswept realized, taking another bite of his meal.

"No, you aren't," Wing purred, his field flush with pleasure at that. "You and Drift are _home_ now. You'll never have to move again."

The was an edge of relief to Windswept's field at the thought as he settled to finish his meal before it grew cold and solid, too good to waste in such a manner. With a smile Wing also focused on his meal for a time, though there was no missing that he was also enjoying watching his date's enjoyment.

The music changed again, slightly slower and suitable for intimate dancing. With a twitch of his wings, Wing waited until Windswept finished. "Dance with me?" he offered his hand but didn't stand in case Windswept didn't want to.

The blue mech hesitated, clearly unsure. "I've never actually danced with anyone..."

Wing nodded. "I don't mind, but only if _you_ want to dance."

"I do." Windswept took his hand, allowing the jet to help him to his pedes and lead the way to the dance floor. He wasn't sure exactly what he was doing, but he trusted Wing. The jet's field conveyed support and belief that it would be enjoyable.

When they stepped onto the dance floor to join the other couples and triads Wing collected Windswept in his arms and drew him close. With the easy grace he displayed in the rest of his functioning Wing guided his date. There was nothing formal to this, merely moving with his lover and the music.

Once he realized what Wing was doing the tension drained from Windswept's frame and he melted against the white jet. Music was something that he understood, could feel. His field blended with Wing's, peaceful and happy. Pure joy flowed back from Wing, both from the enjoyment of the dance and from making Windswept feel good.

The music wrapped around them, guiding their movements as they lost themselves in the movements. Windswept nuzzled at Wing's chest before resting his helm there, deciding he could get very used to this. From the humming and contentment in Wing's field, Windswept had no doubt that the jet felt the same.

This felt _good_.

Neither cared how many songs had passed, but half way through one Wing stiffened slightly. "We need to leave to make it to the concert," Wing murmured, reluctant to stop but not wishing to miss the highlight of the evening.

"Then we should go." Windswept agreed, slowing and falling out of time with the music. He looked up at Wing, optics hopeful. "I have some music rather like this at home. Later, maybe we can dance again?"

"I would enjoy that a great deal," Wing hummed and leaned down to kiss him gently as they walked to the payment counter, Windswept tucked affectionately against Wing's side while the white mech paid, then left to walk to the concert hall.

The blue mech was more than content to make the walk at Wing's side, savoring the closeness because he wanted it and was enjoying it. His focus remained on Wing until they reached the hall, and the small grounder was suddenly distracted by the architecture of a construction that was meant to impress.

The hall rose before them, reaching to the sky and drawing the optic upward to its elegant, slender crystalline spires and board, gleaming facade engraved with musicians and singers from Cybertron's long-lost past.

Wing let them hover there for a long moment, not wanting to rush Windswept's enjoyment.

"We should get going." Windswept murmured, finally tearing his optics from the carvings.

Wing nodded and guided Windswept smoothly into the orderly, happy crowd flowing into the hall to find their seats. The entire expanse was full of pleasant energy from hundreds of mecha looking forward to the evening.

"Do you want to walk or fly to our seats?" Wing asked as they passed through the entry space and into the huge open room arranged around the stage.

"Faster and less crowded if you fly us." Windswept answered, taking in the sea of mecha milling around the hall before things settled.

It didn't hurt that he would take any excuse to fly with the white jet.

A low, pleased chuckle greeted the statement as they shifted so Windswept could hold on before Wing took off, moving slowly and smoothly through the fliers to reach their first balcony, front row seats. There Windswept was set down and nudged to the right seat.

He quickly made himself comfortable in the plush seating, arranging his frame so that he leaned against Wing once the white mech was settled. He'd watched a vid of an orchestra performance from before the war, a file that Drift had presented him with a bit awkwardly not long after Ratchet had edited his programming.

Even before the performers took to the stage this was far more exciting, far more intimate, and the _anticipation-enjoyment_ in Wing's field was almost intoxicating. Windswept forced himself to settle, wanting to be able to concentrate when the performance started no matter how much his field was mirroring Wing's in anticipation.

The similarly painted red, white and blue group that took the stage with a calm orderliness was fifty-two strong, all polished to a mirror shine. Except for the two that played instruments larger than themselves, each carried their own instruments with them as they took their places.

Sound filled the air, last moment checks of tuning and placing before the conductor made his appearance.

Taking his place, the slender black mech commanded total attention with a wave of his hand, the audience going silent and the members of the orchestra falling in position to answer his direction.

A moment of stillness, and _music_ filled the air with the first fall of his baton.

Windswept was lost in the first swell of sound, the music not just around him but feeling as though it was flowing through him. The _joy-enchantment-pleasure_ of the field meshed with his own encouraged him to be lost and enjoy. 

Here and there he even _felt_ what Wing did; the differences in air pressure sensors that the high-performance stunt frame from his much simpler grounder ones. For the flier, this was as much about _feeling_ as it was _hearing_ , and Wing was utterly lost in the bliss of the music.

It was a shared bliss, uninterrupted until the end of the first movement when the musicians paused to regroup before sweeping into the music once more.

Windswept finally moved during the stillness, quietly rearranging so that he was not quite so snug against Wing and could see better, even if most of what he was doing was simply feeling something that he never experienced before. It felt incredible, Wing felt incredible, the pair of them delighted to be lost in the music and that their companion was.

It was forever and all too soon when the conductor signaled a stop.

"Intermission," Wing murmured, still slightly dazed in the best way. "There's energon and confections in the lobby if you want."

The blue mech shook himself, pulling himself back together and nuzzling at Wing. "Would you like something?" A little energon sounded good to him.

"Yes," Wing smiled and stood, abet a touch shaky as his systems recalibrated for the lack of stimulus. "I think I would." He offered a hand to Windswept. "We should probably walk though. It takes a klik or two for me to fly steady after that."

"Walking is good." His own systems were so off at the moment he wasn't sure that he could stay oriented if Wing were to try and fly them. It wasn't a crowded walk, many mecha taking their time and quite a few electing to not get up at all.

Wing quietly guided him, both mecha more than content to simply enjoy the other's company and the afterglow of their musical bliss. It actually jolted Windswept a touch when Wing spoke.

"What would you like?" the jet made a small motion to the energon station, staffed with a flawlessly polished white and silver femme with a warm smile. "Standard, mid or high grade, or mixed drinks."

"Midgrade, thank you." Windswept smiled. He didn't need anything stronger and he wanted to be able to continue enjoying the music.

Wing nodded. "One midgrade grade and one jet high grade with gold and crystallized sodium chloride."

"Of course, sir," the server smiled, nodded and quickly mixed Wing's choice, handing it to him before turning to pour Windswept's simpler request to hand to the blue grounder.

"Thank you." Windswept murmured, accepting his drink and taking a sip with a soft purr as they moved away to give the next mecha in line space. It might be simple mid grade, but it was the good quality variety that slid down your intake smoothly.

Still companionably against Wing's side he looked around, taking the break time to see who else would be interested in the kind of music they were enjoying. He spotted half a dozen Knights, including Dai Atlas and Thorn, though they weren't together. All around them were mecha with nice finishes, those with the time or funds to make themselves look _good_.

A little more mecha watching as Wing guided him through the crowd and he began to be able to pick out who were the regulars, or at least in the economic bracket to be regulars, and who seemed a bit out of place.

"This is a popular thing in the city." He commented quietly to Wing.

"Oh yes," he trilled happily after a sip of his energon. "There are three full time orchestras in the city and two others that play less often. There is a concert is almost every night, though the New Crystal City Orchestra is the premier one. You have to actually _plan_ to come and get tickets. We have made a point to terrace the prices by seat placement so anyone who works can afford a ticket at least once a vorn, more often if they go to a less skilled orchestra. Any seats that are open two breems before the music begins are available for free."

"I'm enjoying it." Windswept said, field brushing against Wing's to share his pleasure. "Thank you."

Wing's smile and field brightened even more with pleasure at that. "You are welcome."

"Wing!"

Both mechs turned at the cheerful voice from behind them, the speaker a large, cheerful mech of medium airframe. Blue optics swept over the Knight, lingering on Windswept curiously. "Who is your hansom companion? Is this the Drift I have heard so much about?"

"Hello Skysheild," Wing greeted him warmly. "This is Drift's mate, Windswept. I'm courting him as well."

"Than a welcome to you, Windswept." Skysheild smiled, raising his drink in gesture of goodwill and greeting. "Do you like our city?"

The blue mech shifted, unused to the attention but finding the light shuttle's manner friendly. It was hard to be afraid of someone who was clearly honestly _pleased_ to meet him. "I am liking it a great deal, thank you."

"And our friendly Knight here?" Skysheild motioned to Wing.

Windswept found himself smiling as well, leaning into Wing as he answered softly. "I like him very much as well."

Wing trilled, purring in pleasure as he leaned down to nuzzle him. "I think we will make a very fine triad."

"Good luck to you all." Skysheild said, meaning it as he looked at Wing. "Will I get to meet this Drift?"

A low chuckle greeted that. "Not until he's completed first stage Initiate training. But when he has a little free time, oh yes."

"I look forward to then." A soft sound echoed the lobby, catching the attention of all present, and Skysheild nodded at them. "And that means it is time for us to return to our seats. It was nice meeting you, Windswept."

"And meeting you." Windswept replied, finding it true as the shuttle smiled again and left them. He and Wing felt into companionable silence once more as they returned to their seats to enjoy the rest of the concert.


	26. Old Enough

This was a part of the city he had not been to before, and Windswept looked around curiously. They were doing some work on the City, and the repairs were interesting. It was the first day Drift had been given off since Windswept and Wing had treated him to a day at the spa, and the three had decided to simply spend the day enjoying each others company. Wing had a secondary goal of exposing Drift to more of the city he loved so much and Drift was determined to call home.

There were people moving about, some working, some traveling, and a few just hanging out. Six vorns after that first terrifying orn, Windswept didn't feel nearly the need to be touching one of his mates at all times anymore. He didn't explore on his own yet, but he was willing to go along a few select routes without an escort.

The sight of a mech working on a carving set into a building caught his attention and he watched as the relief slowly took shape. Neither he nor his mates realized they had continued on while he wandered off a few steps.

Suddenly a large, strong hand was on Windswept's shoulder.

"Sparkling ... what are you doing without your creators?" a deep, caring voice rumbled from above him.

Windswept jumped at the sudden weight on his shoulder, staring up at the strange white and black mech and just on the verge of panicking as he looked around and realized that Wing and Drift were nowhere in sight.

"Me?" he squeaked.

"Yes, you," The bulky white and black mech looked at him seriously. "Windswept, is it? You shouldn't be out..." the smooth voice trailed off as he turned Windswept to face him and saw the intended marker on his chest. The friendly, concerned features took on a hard expression. "You need to come with me."

"I...all right." Windswept agreed, shaking slightly. "I'm not alone. My mates were here just a moment ago."

"You're too young to have mates," the mech insisted firmly, giving Windswept a gentle tug to come along quietly. "We will sort this out at the station."

Confusion leaked into the smaller mech's field as he came along obediently, already reaching out over a comm line to Wing and Drift. "What?"

The big mech looked at him in sympathy but kept walking, his hand never leaving contact with Windswept. "You're barely thirty two vorns according to your ID ping. No mecha is supposed to have interfacing upgrades until they are at least two hundred for your frame size."

::Where are you?:: Drift's tone bordered on panic.

"I've always had the interfacing mods." Windswept protested, growing more confused the farther they went. ::Not sure. He said something about the station ... Where are you?::

He was keeping it together, but it was a hard thing and becoming more difficult by the step.

::Who?:: Wing asked for the ID ping of who was with his mate. Windswept belatedly sent it. ::You're with a security mecha,:: Wing explained. ::The station is likely the precinct headquarters. Why is he taking you in?::

"It's all right, sparkling," the white and black mech crooned, a soothing, reassuring sound. "You aren't in trouble."

::He thinks I'm a sparkling.:: Windswept told him, agitated. ::I told him you two were near, but that only seemed to upset him more.::

"Then what's wrong?"

Wing groaned and Drift snarled.

"Someone isn't doing their duty in protecting you from adult mecha," the officer tried to explain. "If your creators are not in the city we'll find a good bonded pair to care for you and raise you as you should have been from the beginning."

"I don't understand." Windswept told him, following the large mech through the doors of a rather large and imposing building. Several mecha with similar paintjobs to the white and black he was with were going about their duties. None glanced at them and nodded or smiled, but went on their way.

"That's all right," he was told gently as the big mech guided him into the station and a comfortably appointed room with no windows and only one door. "There is much you are expected to understand yet."

::Officer Strongspark, you are not to leave the sparkling you brought in alone for even a moment,:: a private comm stopped the officer. ::He's been traumatized by abandonment enough for one existence.::

::Understood, sir,:: Strongspark responded smoothly. "Sit wherever you like. Would you like some energon or a confection?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Windswept said, obediently taking a seat as good manners had him responding on autopilot. He vented softly. "How long am I going to have to stay?"

This was supposed to have been a nice day out, ending with the three of them finding dinner somewhere before heading back for a pleasant evening so Drift could recharge before he had to go back to training. And at the moment he was the one messing everything up.

"It depends on how soon we can find someone to take care of you," Strongspark said gently. "You'll go home with an officer if new caretakers haven't been found by shift change. Likely either the Captain or myself."

A strong knock on the door, just short of pounding, stopped Strongspark from continuing as he turned to deal with it. When the door opened the primary frame visible was another officer, but behind her were the familiar frames of Wing and Drift.

"I don't care if they're Knights," Strongspark hissed. "Mating a thirty vorn old is sparkling abuse."

Windswept was on his pedes at the sight of his mates, stopping at the heated exchange between the two officers.

"They say he's no sparkling." The femme told Strongspark quietly, optics flicking to the two white mechs for a moment. "They seem very agitated and concerned for their mate."

"Get out of my way," Drift growled, deep and dangerous with a hand on his short sword's hilt. "He wasn't created as a sparkling."

"His age makes him one under New Crystal City law," Strongspark snapped back. "And will for a long time."

"I wasn't, it's the truth." Windswept said quietly, daring to come closer to the large mech and worried at the state Drift seemed to be in. "I was sparked into this frame, just like this."

Well, his programming had been altered, but it had been done by a medic truly for his own good. And surely if there was something wrong with the way he was Ratchet or Redline would have said something.

"Drift," Wing put a hand on his mate's arm, though he was just as agitated. "Creators are on their way."

Strongspark glowered at them. "No one is above the law."

"Not above the law, but old enough to know the details of it," Wing corrected. "If _he_ and our medic made no objection to my courting Windswept, actually _encouraged_ it, he is no sparkling."

Windswept was on the verge of telling the large mech just how long they had been courting before it occurred to him that information might only make matters worse at the moment. Instead he focused on Drift and Wing, watching them as much as he could through the blocked door as his hand stroked over the marker on his chest in unconscious habit, the motion soothing. He watched as Drift shifted until they could maintain optic contact at least.

There was not a bit of doubt from the look Drift was wearing that Windswept was not going to be without him close until this was over.

::Strongspark, do you _know_ who the jet's creators are?:: the femme commed him privately.

::It doesn't...::

::First Master Knight Dai Atlas of the Circle of Light, and his mate Master Knight Axe,:: she said firmly. ::You know, the city's _founders_? The mecha we all followed here.::

::And I have a hard time believing they approve of this.:: The large mech growled softly. ::The young one acts as though he had been indoctrinated. And I have my orders as well.::

The way the young mech settled at the presence of the Knights was even more disturbing to Strongspark, only strengthening his resolve to not let Windswept near the other two until he was given a very good reason otherwise. No one of his age should be that dependant on _mates_.

Drift crossed his arms and glared at the larger mech. "You know who he is, you know who _we_ are, he's done nothing wrong. Release him."

"He has done nothing wrong, but I have no proof yet that you have not. Until then he remains in protective custody, for his own good." Strongspark informed, unphased by the demeanor of the mech making demands when his protective protocols were engaged. "He is not being charged with anything, and is in no trouble."

Windswept's soft whimper at the statement shook him more, and the large mech spared a moment trying to get Windswept to settle and calm once more.

"It's _not_ good for him," Drift growled, though now there was no missing that he was distressed by Windswept's distress.

" _Drift_ ," Wing hissed under his breath. "Let Dai Atlas handle this. It'll hurt Windswept more if you have to suffer a penance over this."

White armor rattled before Drift forced himself to settle, forced himself to trust another with what he cared so much about. Everything in him was screaming at him that he could take the security mecha on, win and get Windswept out safely. Everything but the ever-strengthening voice to trust Wing, trust the Knights, trust the city he had sworn to protect.

::Stay?:: A quiet comm pleaded to both of them as Windswept passively resisted the efforts to get him back in a seat, the gentle urgings falling on deaf audios until the small mech was sure that he was not going to be left.

"Not going to leave you," Drift rumbled, optics locked on his mate. "Never going to leave you."

"No, we aren't going to leave," Wing agreed with the determination he rarely displayed so blatantly. It was a reminder that this was still the mech that was willing to defy everything to follow his spark and not just bring a Decepticon into the city, but got him repaired.

Reassured for the moment Windswept sat once more, curling up in the only chair that allowed him to see the door and falling into a state of silence.

Strongspark twitched, looking down at the small mech and wondering at how _off_ the whole situation felt. Deciding to deal with one thing at a time he turned, motioning to Drift and Wing. "You've already taken their information down?"

"Of course," she nodded. "They are who they claim."

"Then get them somewhere to wait." Somewhere where they weren't hovering so that he could get someone in here to talk to Windswept and see if they could get to the bottom of this.

She glanced between the Knights, both of whom looked ready to commit violence to stay, and the distressed youth beyond Strongspark who clearly wanted them to stay. Knights had a lot of power, especially this pair, and there was no firm evidence they had done wrong yet. Sometimes, playing good cop got more than being hardline. "Windswept, would seeing them through a window be enough?"

"Yes." It wasn't what he _wanted_ , but that was a compromise he could work with. Just the promise that they were not going to leave him here was enough for the blue mech, but he would take as much as they were willing to give him.

Strongspark nodded, that arrangement suiting him as well. Not what he wanted, but as long as the pair couldn't interact with the sparkling, it would be good enough.

Besides, the case worker he could see coming had more authority in this than he did.

He watched with hard optics as the Knights followed Bluesweep to an adjoining room and flicked the window to one way viewing. Windswept could see them, but they couldn't see him. Their locator pings would tell them that the sparkling was still there, if they needed proof of his location.

"Strongspark?" a lightly built Praxian Seeker of medium blue and white with soft blue optics.

"Lightkeeper." The security mech nodded, stepping just outside the door to speak with the seeker. "Might have a case for you."

The first one in the history of the city, a thought that saddened Strongspark just a bit.

"Yes," she smiled sadly before focusing on the small blue mech sitting numbly in the chair. "I'll take it from here."

Strongspark nodded and went to join Bluesweep in questioning the Knights. She was being entirely too nice to them.

"Hello Windswept," she smiled and sat down across from him, pulling up memories and procedures that hadn't been in use since before the city was founded. "I'm Lightkeeper. Will you talk with me?"

Wary blue optics met hers, and the small mech nodded. "If it will get me back to my mates."

A warm, encouraging smile greeted the response. "Tell me about them, about how you came to be with them."

Windswept stared at her for a moment before nodding and started from the beginning. "I was sparked in Iacon, on Cybertron. I was created to serve Drift, the white grounder, as a gift for saving a noble's life. All of my initial programming and training revolved around that."

Bright blue optics cycled as that was assimilated. "So Drift designed your frame and programming?"

"No. The noble who commissioned me did, or at least approved it. I never met him. After I was sparked another mech delivered me to Drift, after they managed to track him down. Most of my functioning has been spent in his company."

"So Drift wasn't expecting you?" she asked, wanting to be sure. It was the oddest thing she'd ever heard.

"No." Windswept murmured, pulling up memories that he had not accessed in vorns, and the feelings that went with them. Once just recalling almost being rejected would have sent a shiver of fear through him. "At first I think he even tried to refuse me. When he found out what would happen if he didn't take me he accepted."

::Ask what would have happened if Drift hadn't accepted Windswept,:: she commed Bluesweep. "He seems quite possessive of you now."

"He took me with him on his travels, got the slave programming lifted, and when I chose to stay with him anyway named me his mate." Good memories there, joy sneaking into the blue mechs field at being wanted and possessed.

Joy that only intensified now that he knew he was loved and valued by not one but two mechs.

"What was he like as a master?" Lightkeeper asked carefully.

"Good." Windswept answered, offering a small shrug and having no reason to be anything but honest. "I was happy, he took care of me. He encouraged me to do things that interested me and to take care of myself. He tried to treat me like a free mech, as much as my programming would allow."

She nodded with a smile. "How long before he got your slave programming removed?"

"Fourteen vorns. It took that long to make the arrangements with someone he trusted enough to do the job right, and then several metacycles of observation after that to make sure that the new programming settled in correctly."

"Who did the work?" she asked, curious as to Drift's standards.

"The Autobot Chief Medical Officer, a mech designationed Ratchet."

Lightkeeper wanted to whistle. She knew him by reputation before the war, and that reputation was of an intensely moral doctor as well as the finest surgeon of his generation.

There was a sudden roar of engines outside the precinct, loud enough to be clearly audible inside, then the sound of transformation and two very large mechs touching down. Those sounds announced the arrival of the Knight leader and his mate, and surprisingly Redline as well. Dai Atlas led the other two inside, managing to keep his wings down long enough to clear the doorframe before they flared out, clear indicators of the blue triple changer's state of mind. Red optics swept the precinct to settle on the Captain who had come out of his office to greet them.

"My apologies for the inconvenience, Master Dai Atlas," the copper and red Seeker inclined his helm politely. "I hope you understand how suspicious it was."

"Where is Windswept?" There was an edge in the Order Master's voice that hinted that he was not going to tolerate being led in verbal circles. Both he and Axe had the distinct bearing of a creator whose creation was being messed around with.

"This way," the Seeker lowered his wings in submission and promptly walked to the room where Windswept and Lightkeeper were talking.

Two pairs of optics carefully scanned over the small blue mech. Axe stepped around his mate and walked over to stand with Windswept, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dai Atlas stayed by the door, turning his ruby gaze on Captain Sonic Flare.

"We are fully aware of Windswept's age," Dai Atlas rumbled. "Redline can confirm that Windswept was sparked a full adult, not a sparkling."

"And that his formative vorns included slave programming linked to Drift?" Officer Lightkeeper asked, still very uneasy about the situation.

" _He_ had it lifted." Windswept pushed, desperate to defend his mate and bolder when it came to defending others than he would ever be for his own benefit.

"Only after long enough that there was little hope that you would ever fully shake the effects," Lightkeeper pointed out. "It was expertly done, however what was learned under the influence has not been addressed."

"We are aware of that as well." This time it was Axe who answered, his optics fixing on the femme.

Dai Atlas' wings flared out, just missing the wall on one side and sending another officer scuttling out of the way on the other. "Windswept was sparked a full adult, with a distinct purpose and programming. By Cybertron law, by _our_ law, Windswept is an adult."

"The effects are being addressed," Redline said firmly. "Like all learned behaviors from pre-programming, it takes centuries to unlearn and some traits will never fade. I have been watching both Windswept and his mates closely as long as they have been in the city. His progress both before and after arriving has been excellent. Both Drift and Wing care about him as a mech, not as property."

"I knew what I was doing." Windswept insisted, wanting- _needing_ \- it to be true as he focused on Lightkeeper. He had never _wanted_ to be anywhere but with Drift, even after he had the choice and understood that fact.

"I'm sure you believe that," she tried to sooth him, but a rumble from Axe cut her platitudes off.

Red optics took in Captain Sonic Flare and Lightkeeper, glancing through the one-way window at Strongspark. "There are laws concerning sparked adults in the city laws. Feel free to see for yourself."

"We are not leaving without Windswept." Axe gave Lightkeeper an intense glare. "Nor will Drift or Wing." He stepped closer to the small blue mech, radiating protectiveness from every line of ebony armor enough to send Lightkeeper back a step.

The Captain shifted uneasily. This wasn't a situation he liked, politically or morally. He'd _left_ Cybertron to escape this kind of cruelty, yet the leader of the Circle of Light was correct. No matter Windswept's age, he couldn't contest Redline's assessment nor could he contest Dai Atlas' statement about the laws. They were still in the records to protect sparked adults from being treated unfairly as sparklings as much as to protect them from abuse by those who would use their relative innocence and programmed behavior against them.

::Officer Bluesweep, please bring Knights Wing and Drift over.::

::Yes, sir,:: she responded promptly.

The white Knights were escorted over from the holding room, Strongspark proceeding them into the room and keeping his large frame between them and Windswept in the small room that was growing rapidly crowded.

Bluesweep followed them in, looking around and assessing the situation carefully.

Dai Atlas eyed Strongspark, hearing his own mate rumble from where Axe stood with Windswept. The black mech was visibly bristling, some armor plates puffing out. Blue optics flicked from the other mech to Bluesweep and back as Drift literally pushed his way forward to reached Windswept and catch him in a protective embrace that was as much to reassure himself that his mate was no worse for their separation was it was to reassure Windswept that he was back.

"Is it sorted out?" Wing looked up at his creators before noticing that Captain Sonic Flare had the slightly glazed look of one in an intensive multi-comm conference call.

Windswept melted into Drift's embrace, field calming rapidly with his mates nearby and the presence of Wing's creators clearly having some sort of impression on the security mecha.

::We are releasing him?:: Strongspark asked, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing when his protocols were screaming at him to protect Windswept but at the moment he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be protecting the young mech from.

"It's in the process of getting sorted out," Dai Atlas replied, looking down at Wing, then shifting so that Wing was standing beside him.

Axe watched Drift and Windswept for a moment, then herded the two smaller mechs over to where Dai Atlas and Wing were standing, keeping the three smaller mechs between himself and the blue triple changer. Dai Atlas' wings fanned out over the trio. His body language and field made the message clear: _My_ creations. _My_ family. Back off.

With a deep expelling of air the Captain focused on the room once more, but primarily on Strongspark. "All they say has checked out. Windswept is a legal adult, regardless of his physical age." He turned to the family of Knights. "This has been logged in our files. Any other security mecha who notices Windswept's age and pings for his records will be notified of his legal status. It should not happen again."

Tension drained from the Knights gathered in the room, and the blue mech in Drift's arms sighed in relief.

Strongspark watched the exchange before nodding in acceptance, watching Lightkeeper to gauge her reaction as well. Just because he accepted it didn't necessarily mean he agreed with the decision. She seemed less unhappy than he was, but not completely convinced the law was right in this moment.

"You have my apologies for this event," Captain Sonic Flare inclined his wings to the Knights and Windswept. "Officer Strongspark was only following what he believed was for Windswept's benefit."

"For which he deserves thanks, not condemnation," Lightkeeper spoke up. "Given the available information and the circumstances he acted in good faith and within the bounds of the law and common sense."

With the threat over, Dai Atlas relaxed significantly and was willing to accept that. "Yes, his dedication to protecting sparklings is a good thing. No harm has come of this. We will not hold it against anyone."

"We can go now?" Drift asked, his stance settled now that there were only pleasantries left.

"The file has been closed and the important notes have been made." Bluesweep informed everyone after she checked with the records keeper.

"There is no more business here at the precinct then. Yes, you are free to leave." The Captain informed them. "I am sorry that this has resulted in the misunderstanding that it did."

Axe nodded to the Captain and nudged the young family to move along with his mate. There were some political feathers ruffled that needed to be soothed. That was his duty.

Wing waved Axe good luck with a wing and focused on making sure Drift _remained_ in a stable mood until they were clear of the building. It helped some that Windswept was mostly calm now, only lingering tension from the stress from what had happened hanging on.

"Let's go back to the Citadel," Wing murmured, urging his lovers in that direction as he watched his creator take off and smoothly transform, no doubt to take some of his tension out in the air. It was a freedom that Wing felt mildly jealous of at the moment. His lovers came first though. Flying would have to wait until they were in recharge. Or at the very least until Drift was.

"Sorry." Windswept murmured from where he was still pressed against Drift.

"Not your fault," Drift said firmly, one hand rubbing his mate's side as they walked. "I should be surprised it didn't happen before."

"Hopefully not again." Windswept sighed, looking from Wing to Drift. "Why was it such a problem?"

The Initiate could only shrug. He didn't understand it himself, he just knew it was true. "It's a thing for mech who are used to sparklings, and not mecha like us."

"Sparklings are a rare, precious thing," Wing tried to explain something that was beyond reflexive for him. "The war, even as early as the exodus happened, saw so many deactivated. Can I share some memories of what sparklings are like when we get back to our quarters? It might help you to understand."

Windswept nodded in agreement, wanting to understand the trouble he had caused and what was so different from the way that he experienced life.

"Why not," Drift agreed as he reached over to pull Wing against his other side and kissed him softly. "I think we all just want to get our energon and spend the rest of my time off in the berth."

Windswept purred in delight at the idea, leaning against Drift as he received a kiss; long, lingering and passionate. "I like the sound of that," he nearly moaned.

"Good," Drift purred, enjoying that both his loves found the idea appealing.

* * *

Later Windswept snuggled against his lovers relaxing on the berth, sated and content as their fields ran and blended together.

"You mentioned memories...." Drift suddenly hesitated as it registered what sharing a memory meant doing.

"Yes," Wing purred, nuzzling his white lover. "If you want to." He looked at them both.

Windswept was calm, optics full of trust as he rolled to his knees. "I would like to see what you are willing to share."

Drift hesitated again, deep in debate about letting anyone in, memories of what happened when you let someone in roiling in his processors, right along with a very loud component that was screaming at him that this was _Wing_. This was the mech he intended to offer his very spark to; that he intended to _bond_ with. Surely his processors were less valuable than his spark. Surely if his spark belonged to Wing, which it did, there was nothing to fear of anything the jet might do to him. He'd already changed so much.

"Yes," Drift eventually nodded, slow but sure of himself.

Windswept settled on the berth, data cover sliding away as he waited for Wing to arrange things as he wanted them, field brushing against Drift in comfort and curiosity. His easy trust of his lovers clear.

Wing leaned forward and gently kissed Drift, his field full of reassurance and acceptance. He caressed Drift's dataport cover with a light touch, more than willing to take whatever time his love needed to relax. As Drift began to kiss back and his plating warmed the dataport slid open.

With a smile of approval Wing kissed him deeper and gently placed the end of his data cable in Drift's hand, offering full control to his love.

Windswept waited, watching patiently. There was time, as much was needed for the white grounder to do what he needed to accept this. He knew, at least in an abstract way, why Drift was so uneasy with this, but it didn't make it hurt any less to know how completely abused his mate had been. It made his own systematic rape seem like nothing in comparison.

With a cold wash through his systems, it sank in for Windswept that his thought was probably right. He'd suffered once. His mate ... he knew enough to know that Drift had suffered for much of his existence before meeting Wing. That it was why Drift was so reluctant to interface by any means other than his spike.

He watched with growing pride as Drift fingered the connection, earning a soft moan from Wing, then plugged it in. He smiled as the connection synced between the pair, watching as the tension grew less as being connected to Wing soothed his mate. 

Drift was so much stronger than he could ever hope to be, and Windswept would always be proud of his mate.

With Drift now leaning against Wing, accepting the soothing touch, field and pulses of data, Wing used his free hand to offer a data cable to Windswept.

Windswept inched closer, mimicking Drift's posture some as he curled against Wing, resting comfortably against the white jet as he accepted the cable and the connection.

The first touch of Wing's systems against his own met with initial resistance, quickly dropped as Windswept recognized Wing and the connection between them settled. Queries were met and answered, the data moving between them freely as the white jet guided the sharing that was new to Windswept.

In the open space that was Wing's sharing processors Windswept became aware of Drift, who was still cautious. _Wing_ was trusted implicitly, but the situation was far less so.

When everyone was generally settled with the connection, Wing pulled up his first memory.

The first sensation that hit was being _very_ far off the ground, and Drift tensed sharply before settling himself by force of will. Against a mirror-finished wall huge golden optics reflected back, seeing a tiny silvery-black protoform in the arms of a black giant too large to perceive all of from that angle.

Windswept felt an immediate surge of _adorable-protect_ at the sight, but Drift didn't react. Or at least not the way Wing was expecting him to. Drift's processors saw only weaknesses and the eventual, difficult, recognition that he was looking at Wing in a very small, very oddly proportioned frame with a large helm, enormous optics and no armor worth the designation.

Looking again Windswept could understand how and why Drift would see that, but that was why the sparkling was with a protector, someone who was able and willing to defend it from anything that was willing to do it harm. A feeling that Windswept actually understood on a level.

Not as something that he was able to offer, but as something that he had been offered; safety knowing that Drift, and now Wing, would protect him. And knowing that small frame and bright spark had grown into the mech who was even now sharing something they had never experienced with them.

~I'm missing protocols,~ Drift murmured in uneasy realization that mingled with an understanding of why some things were easy for him that had stopped others cold in their tracks. ~I should feel something _else_.~

~Yes,~ Wing agreed gently. ~They can be uploaded, if you want them. It's unlikely to be an issue anytime soon.~

Drift made a noncommittal sound in the VR space, not ready for it but not rejecting the idea outright.

Windswept assumed that the affection and protectiveness he felt at the sight of the sparkling was normal. The realization that it had been at the fact that it was a sparkling, and not just the knowledge that the sparkling was Wing was interesting.

Another memory came up, this time with the ID markers of belonging to Axe. A somewhat larger and now white Wing was climbing up Dai Atlas' blue leg as the leader was attempting to present a stern lecture to the Circle.

It was failing miserably.

Windswept found himself highly amused at the image, laughter ringing through the connection at the memory. With it was also a small amount of wonder at the nature of sparklings and what they were allowed to get away with in learning of their world.

~The protective protocols towards sparklings are almost inviolate,~ Wing chuckled. ~They can get away with pretty much anything that won't get them injured.~

Even Drift smirked, then burst out in laughter. ~I will never be able to take him seriously again.~

~How much trouble did you get into once you figured that one out?~ Windswept asked, having learned the nature of the jet rather well over the last few vorns, and just how good Wing could be at walking the line that was trouble without quite setting pede over it.

~I'm not sure there was any I _didn't_ get into,~ Wing giggled, remembering good times from two separate sparklinghoods. ~I got in a lot more trouble the second time, with the Aerialbots. My processors and memory were more advanced than my physical age and they were _all_ seriously jittery about the Decepticons, or even a Neutral, getting their hands on me.~

The Decepticons getting their hands on Wing being a bad thing Windswept could understand, the leverage they would have had would have been almost unlimited. He had seen it during his travels. A full frame mecha took their chances in the war, but the length that would be gone to retrieving and rescuing a sparkling....

~Why the fear of the Neutrals?~

~Just because they did not choose to be Decepticons does not mean they are any better than Decepticons,~ Drift explained, too many memories drifting between them, but first and strongest among them was the fact that it was _Neutrals_ who'd abused Windswept. ~Some are worse. Megatron does have _some_ standards.~

There was a mental flinch away from those memories as Windswept physically snuggled closer to Wing, instinctively grounding himself against the pain that had finally started to fade into something that was only memory.

~Truth.~ He conceded, thankful when Wing offered something else well away from that line of thinking.

A gentle shield separated them from Drift, along with a warning of what the next memory was to be. Flight. An early memory, the first time Wing had spread his wings under the moon and stars as an entire planet and universe swept out before him, around him, under him.

Absolute freedom.

No cavern walls to hem him in.

No ceiling forcing him down.

There was just the crisp wind, the sand below, the stars above, and no limits but his own engines.

That was enough to thoroughly distract the blue mech, the wonder of flying, of being able to move like that, without the limitations and confines of a ship. Of the sheer beauty that it allowed Wing to see and explore.

Longing rose in from his spark, and an answering memory rose to Wing's, of the time the white jet had taken Windswept flying, and all of the excitement and emotion that he had felt then.

~I can ask,~ Wing offered, only half aware of the thought-idea as his own memories of those innocent, glorious times of flying just for the joy of it enraptured him as well.

~Ask what?~ Windswept murmured as they came down from the high that flying caused, settled after the sharing.

Wing hummed, sorting his thoughts to answer the question. He dropped the shield protecting Drift from the memory and them from his response to it.

~I can ask Redline if he can reconfigure you so you can fly,~ Wing offered.

Drift's response was curious interest, but no real _reaction_ yet.

Windswept's reaction was an initial surge of excitement and disbelief. ~That's possible?~

He _wanted_ , so badly.

~It's possible,~ Drift said, a dim sense of experience backing up the statement. ~I'm not sure what's involved.~

Flowing around the personal unease with the idea for himself was a determination that Windswept would have the new alt if it meant that much to him.

~I'll ask,~ Wing promised.

Joy-excitement-thanks flooded back to wash back over both of the white mechs, the blue mech literally quivering. ~Thank you.~

That reaction was enough to turn both his mates into very happy purring goo snuggled up against him as they simply enjoyed the moment for a time.


	27. Freedom of Flight

Windswept hesitated for a moment outside of Redline's office, excited and afraid at the same time. Wing had spoken to Redline as he had promised, and then set up the appointment for Windswept to see the medic and given Windswept the time.

Now Windswept was going to find out if he really did have the chance to fly on his own as he pinged for permission to enter.

The door opened and the mostly white medic smiled at him and motioned him to enter. This was easily the best mood Windswept had ever seen him in.

"Have a seat," Redline motioned to the chair across from his desk.

"Thank you for seeing me." Windswept said quietly, making his way into the office and taking a seat in the chair the medic indicated.

"I'm delighted to see someone for reasons other than damage," Redline smiled warmly. "Wing indicated you want to be reconfigured into a triple changer."

"I'd like to be able to _fly_." Windswept told him, the desire bright in his optics. "Wing...suggested that it might be possible with a reformat."

"The physical and programming can be done," Redline agreed. "What can not be changed is how you respond to being in the air. Has Wing taken you flying?"

"Yes. Several times." Windswept shivered. After the first time Wing had taken him up he had jumped at every opportunity to go into the air.

"Good," Redline relaxed slightly. "How about sharing his memories, allowing you to experience flight from the perspective of the flier?"

Windswept nodded again. "He shared many of them with me after he took me into the air for the first time." The blue mech smiled a little. "Even the one where he ended up hanging from the ceiling when he was first learning."

Granted he had to ask for that one, and Wing had made a face when Windswept had asked about seeing it from the white jet's perspective.

A deep, highly amused chuckle greeted that statement. "That is one event he will never live down. Have any of them distressed you?"

"When they upset Wing." Was the honest answer, the stress that had come through when Wing had shared some of the memories had transferred to Windswept, but not enough that he had ever considered stopping.

"Because they upset Wing, or because the event was disturbing?" Redline prodded carefully.

"Mostly because they upset Wing." Windswept answered with a small shrug.

A nod from Redline and the medic hummed thoughtfully. "I would like to run you through a few situations in your processor to be sure that you are suited for flying on your own. Many grounders want to fly, but not many can handle being a flier."

"Of course." Windswept nodded, understanding. Everyone wanted to be sure, including him.

A warm, supportive smile and field greeted that. Redline came around and offered a hand to the smaller mech. "I'd like you on a table, in case it goes badly. I will not lose you during a test."

"Lose me?" Windswept repeated, curious as he followed Redline from the office into the medical wing proper. There was no fear as he settled on the table that medic indicated, obediently opening the indicated data port covers as several feeds and monitor lines were hooked into his frame.

"It is possible to suffer catastrophic system failure if you are truly unsuited to fly under your own power," Redline explained as he connected himself to the final port. ~If you enjoyed flying with Wing, I would be very surprised for you to react that badly, but it is still possible.~

There was a brief flare of the joy he had felt when had been with Wing, the result of being with the flyer and being in the air before Windswept calmed himself. "Then I guess we will find out."

~Yes, we will,~ Redline said, his calm, professional demeanor soothing Windswept even more. ~These exercises will be similar to reliving Wing's memories; they will be completely real while you are in them. However, they have been scrubbed of all emotional content. Only what _you_ feel will show up in response.~

~I'm ready.~ Windswept told him as he dropped more of his firewalls, opening him to the initial contact pings in preparation for the tests that Redline was going to run.

He felt the final checks on his systems as his vision changed, giving way to the first simulation that felt real to him.

He stood on the very top roof of the Citadel, the city and the sand spread out before him. He'd stood here before, in real life, but this was different. His HUD was alive with new symbols and readings. The fuel readings for flight were separate from his fuel for walking and driving. There were dozens of new protocols and systems to assimilate related to his new wings and turbines.

A glance at the mirror finish of a nearby wall showed his familiar frame, but it had large, relatively thick wings closer to the Vosian design than Wing's.

Everything checked out, all systems reading as primed and ready as he stepped to the edge of the roof and spread his wings, stretching them in a final check before launching off the roof to touch the sky.

An intense rush of power roared across his frame as powerful engines cycled up for flight. They easily lifted him into the air, over the edge to where the city was dozens of stories below him.

Joy spread through him, simple pleasure as systems continued to function in the optimal range and he soared above the city, well above any obstacles and troubles in an easy path where the only intent was to _enjoy_ the feeling the flight. Light winds whipped around his frame, dancing across sensors that felt _good_ to be stimulated by them, but a different kind of good than the pleasure of touch that Drift or Wing brought him. 

This was a pleasure that could go on forever, and Windswept would have been inclined to stay there and allow it to carry on for at least a while longer, except that another presence took over and reality slowly melted into something else around him. A brief flash of consciousness reassured him that this was normal and supposed to be happening, that all of this was test, before the world solidified around him again.

Dark skies above, jagged metal below and the wings began to howl around him. It wasn't enough to force him to move, but enough that it was no longer pleasant to simply hang there.

There was an initial moment of panic before he pulled himself together, trying to analyze what was going on around him and how to respond to the sudden change. New protocols popped up, were quickly examined and implemented with a single, easy conclusion as the result.

With nothing pressing to drive him onward, land.

It was just a question of where. The ground was ragged, ill-suited for driving, with holes and small caves everywhere.

Finally a cave presented itself that his scans suggested would be large enough for his needs. Adjusting his flight pattern Windswept aimed for the opening, intending to simply wait out the bad weather before continuing on his way. He set down, a bit heavier than he really wanted to when his engines powered down to an idle, but not hard enough to be more than a jolt.

Inside the cave was dark but fairly clear as acid rain began to fall outside.

Safe and successful, Windswept actually experienced a sense of disappointment as the world faded again.

The skies were clear again and bright blue over a lush green world full of life. He was flying smoothly, only a bit above stalling as he enjoyed the easy flight conditions. Abruptly a flock of creatures half the size he was appeared on his sensors, approaching him fast.

There was no initial panic this time as the creatures were scanned and alternative route was sought out. He had plenty of time to get out of their way, even as fast as they were moving. Course adjusted, Windswept prepared to rise above them, that having been deemed the safest alternative route that would allow him to continue on his current course.

As he was rising up, something small ... several small somethings ... were suddenly all round him, fowling his engines and control surfaces with sticky fibers and thick liquid.

Systems failures flashed across his HUD as one of his turbines ceased to function and nothing he tried could force it to respond. His other turbine was functioning fine, but the small creatures had fouled up his steering as well, placing him on a very awkward course as he struggled to maintain altitude and direction.

Some processing power was spared into a looking for a place where he could set down. As more warnings flashed into life parameters changed to looking for a place where he could crash and hopefully come out of it still functioning.

The world below him was strange. All of this was still new. The first edges of panic at the loss of control began to set in, all of his processing power turning to look for a way to survive.

Rock ... _bad_.

Brown ... not quite as bad.

Green ... not good.

Blue? Blue was water. If he could come in at a low angle it would _hurt_ , but as long as he could transform ... yes that was still possible ... he could walk out once the liquid slowed him down enough to sink to the bottom.

That was hopeful, and with his dwindling altitude and control the best that he could hope to manage. Automatic systems activated a homing beacon as he did what he could to manage his decent, altering flaps to change the angle of his landing and make it as shallow as possible.

The water was still going to sting, but it was better than impacting it head on.

One moment he was mentally bracing for impact, the next his sensors were a jumble of confusion and pain. It was working though, he was sure. He was slowing.

Slowing, painfully. He could feel parts giving way from the force of the impact, knew that when he stopped armor and plating were going to be bent and buckled if not stripped away completely.

Some of the initial confusion faded as his speed lessened, but the loss of that only opened the door for a hundred new problems pushing to the surface for his attention, including a reading on the depth of the water beneath him.

With a start a small part of him realized that he was going to be in a great deal of trouble if he could not transform from the damage and simply _sunk_ to the bottom, unable to move.

The water was now smooth enough around him as he sank downwards for what was left of his sensor suites to gather what his situation was. The water was difficult, but not terrible. Low salt content, roughly twenty meters deep where he seemed to be headed and relatively still.

Even though the bottom registered as soft for at least a meter down, his beacon would easily penetrate the depth he'd be at. Even if he couldn't transform, help would be able to find him easily enough.

The beacon ... yes, it was still transmitting.

Could he still transform? 

....Maybe. If he could he'd do more damage to mangled plating, but none of the myriad of warnings seemed to indicate he was immobile.

As soft as the bottom was and as slow as his decent it still hurt when he stopped. Though it would surely earn him a lecture when he got help he took a moment and sorted through the signals, turning off those that he could do nothing about and were really only hindering him at the moment.

Other assessments were made, and finally he gathered himself to try and transform, bracing for the pain and difficulty that were ahead whether he managed the change or not. While the easiest route was surely sitting here on the bottom, it was not the most comfortable nor the safest.

 _Pride-approval-amazement_ burst into his awareness as the world faded and he found himself back in his natural headspace.

~You handled that better than most sparked fliers do,~ Redline informed him as the medic gently tugged him out of the VR space and fully into himself before unhooking him. "I am confident that you will handle being a flier."

"Thank you." Windswept sighed as he finished settling back into himself with a shake, still processing what had just happened and sorting it according to the fact that it was not real. It took a glance at himself in a reflective surface to remind himself that he did not yet possess the wings he'd had in the simulations. 

"The last one was...uncomfortable."

"It was intended to be," Redline said simply, offering his hand to Windswept to help him up. "Do you still wish to have wings?"

"Yes!" If anything the small taste of flying he had just gotten had only reinforced his desire to be able to fly under his own power. He accepted the offer of assistance, holding on for an extra moment as he found his balance once he was upright again in a frame noticeably different than the one he'd worn in his mind.

"Then let's design your new frame," Redline smiled at the enthusiasm and guided Windswept to his office. "Have you thought about what you want?"

"Not really, mostly because I didn't know what was possible." Even having wings of his own had been just a dream in the not so distant past. What he could imagine and what he could actually have were likely two very different things.

He pondered the thought for a moment. He liked his current mass and coloration, but other than that...he had never had an real desire to make alterations to his frame or change his alt mode, perfectly content with the very functional ones he had been created with.

"I wouldn't recommend a frame much larger than your current one. It will strain your spark. Do you wish to retain a ground alt?" Redline began his list of questions.

"If possible, yes." In fact, he was very reluctant to let go of his ground alt, as much as he wanted to fly.

Redline nodded thoughtfully. "So a triple changer, and a very small one." He hummed, scanned Windswept again and motioned the smaller mech to take a seat as the holo interface at his desk flickered to life. Shortly a dozen frame designs appeared with an airframe alt mode next to each. "Which do you find appealing?"

Windswept leaned forward, studying them all carefully and critically before nodded in interest or rejecting them.

Some were just too _heavy_ from the estimated specs that accompanied the image, others he found visually unappealing and rather suspected that his mates would as well. On the other end of the spectrum were the ones that seemed too light and fragile, something he rejected out of base programming even here, in the safest place he had ever resided.

Finally he had it narrowed down to three frames, nodding before sitting back and looking over at Redline to see what the medic thought of his choices.

"All very suitable," the medic smiled. "You want Wing and Drift to help you choose."

"Yes. I won't do it unless they both like it as well." Windswept said seriously, looking over his choices again.

"Why don't you ping them the three you like and see which they prefer?" Redline suggested, hoping to keep going.

The blue mech nodded, making up a packet of the three he had selected and the details with them he sent off to Wing and Drift, tagging them as important but not urgent. "Sent, but I don't know when I'll get an answer. They weren't able to come with me today..."

"Because I asked them not to," Redline said simply. "Some conversations are better handled without lovers around. Though Drift is honestly busy," he chuckled.

"What?" Windswept looked at him, more confused than anything.

"You would do this if one of them wanted, even if you were less than convinced of it," Redline pointed out. "While not a terrible trait, it is my duty as a medic to make sure that this reformat is what _you_ want for yourself."

Wing pinged back with his preferences in order, and a comment that he really did like them all.

"I do." Blue optics met the medic's squarely, sure. If there was ever anything that he had ever wanted purely and selfishly for himself, this was it. "Wing likes it, I think. And Drift is going along with it because I want it." That much he had figured out from their reactions.

Looking over what Wing has sent him Windswept reached out, rearranging the formats still left in the order that Wing had given him.

"I believe you," Redline assured him, pausing to let Windswept work in Drift's responses.

To no surprise, Drift was more opinionated than Wing, though he didn't object to any of the designs.

Windswept considered the options again, reaching out to touch one. "This one. With my current colors."

Redline nodded and made a few quick adjustments. "This?"

Windswept nodded, growing excitement leaking into his field as he looked over the frame design.

"Then you are free to go. It will take me a few orns to finish my preparations. I will contact you when I am ready to rebuild you," Redline said with an easy nod, his processors already at work planning what he was going to do.


	28. Knights Alone

Wing made his way through the corridors of the Citadel, having seen Windswept into the medical bay and the care of Redline for the triple changer upgrade. The upgrade would take several orns to complete, due to the complexity of the work and the programming. 

It would be the first time since returning to New Crystal City that Drift would be without Windswept for any real length of time. The white jet had offered to stay with the white grounder, and Drift had leapt at the offer. He wouldn't have much time, his training would not be interrupted for this, but Drift had gotten good enough to have at least a joor, sometimes two, a day free.

So Wing was currently at the door to Drift's quarters. He knocked to let Drift know he was there, waiting for the door to open before slipping inside.

Strong, warm arms and a kiss that was as much greeting as passion welcomed him.

Wing returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Drift. "Glad to see you, too," the jet purred. He nuzzled Drift. "Wind's in good hands; Redline is among the best."

"I know," Drift's smile was tired. "He rebuilt me from far worse." Drift leaned to rest his forehelm against Wing's, simply enjoying the closeness. "Windswept wants this so badly."

"He's going to be a very good flier." Wing smiled, then tilted his helm. "What do you think of Windswept getting wings of his own?"

Drift cocked his helm as he guided Wing to his berth. He knew he wouldn't be awake long enough to make the couch worth it.

"It'll make him happy," he eventually decided.

"He's got the spark of a flier," the jet murmured. "I would bet that in a past life he was an airframe." He followed Drift, stretching out a wing to remain in contact with the grounder, lightly stroking the tip along Drift's back plating. Across their lightly interlacing fields Drift expressed pleasure at the contact.

"Then it's good he can have this," Drift smiled slightly and rolled to his back on the berth, drawing Wing down and against him. "He deserves to be happy."

"He does," the jet agreed, cuddling into Drift, purring happily. Black fingers ran over Drift's frame, enticing a soft moan and spike of desire across their fields as Drift's hands came up to stroke Wing's frame.

"I already miss him," Drift half confessed, half grumbled.

"Just think of the fun you'll have exploring his new frame when he gets back," Wing suggested with a soft trill. "He won't be expecting just how sensitive to touch a flier's wings really are." He leaned into Drift's hands, thoroughly enjoying the petting.

A low, anticipatory chuckle came to that idea. Drift's hands found Wing's folded wings and stroked them, tweaking control surfaces and joints with a playful arousal tempered by the strong desire to recharge. "I don't know, he knows your wings well."

"Doesn't mean he'll be prepared to feel it himself," Wing replied, flaring out his wings into Drift's hands. "He will melt the first time."

A shiver passed through Drift's frame. It had been entirely too long since he'd had something _new_ to do to Windswept to make him melt. So much of what he hadn't done held more pain than pleasure for them both. It made Drift ache sometimes, knowing he had a lover that could teach him, eventually, to enjoy those acts, yet he could do nothing to help Windswept to learn that sparks and hardline interfacing wasn't a painful, frightening thing.

Wing nuzzled against Drift, purring, his nacelles revving slightly against Drift's arms. He nipped along the planes of Drift's cheek armor, hands idly exploring white plating. He could feel the arousal in his lover's frame, but he could also feel the need to recharge there and the undecided wavering of Drift's choice between them.

Gentle lips touched his, a kiss much more like the first time Drift had kissed him. "Ride me," he murmured, his fingers finding wing joints. Exhausted or not, he _wanted_ the release of overload.

The white jet chirred, one hand wandering down Drift's body to rub slow circles over Drift's spike cover. Warm golden optics met icy blue as Wing feathered light kisses along his lover's jaw and down his neck. It was only a moment before the cover slid open and Drift's spike smoothly extended against Wing's hand, but even more enticing was Drift's moaning twitching at the kisses and gentle attention.

Wing shifted, moving to straddle Drift's hips, his valve cover sliding open. Not taking his golden gaze from Drift's blue, the white jet slowly lowered himself onto Drift's spike, wings fluttering and a low moan rising from his vocalizer. The sound was matched by Drift and black hands found Wing's hips, strong fingers working into seams and joints to stroke the sensitive wires and components within.

Wing stayed still for a moment, his body trembling ever so slightly under Drift's hands. The calipers of Wing's valve rippled against the white grounder's spike, the jet giving his lover a bright grin before he started to move, settling into a rhythm.

Under him, Drift moaned, thrust up and trembled. The need for _pleasure_ was intense, as was the frustration that his abused and neglected frame was reluctant to comply with the pleasure it was being offered.

Wing's hands ran over Drift's chest and shoulder, the jet's hips moving in an easy rhythm, quickly picking up the pace. White pinions flared, wings fanning out and trembling. Golden optics met and locked onto blue and suddenly Drift's chest plates unlocked.

His field full of need that was building on desperate, Drift was willing to offer anything to get what he needed.

Wing let out a soft moan of anticipation, his own chest plates unlocking. Golden light seeped out as red-trimmed plates shifted out of the way, the jet leaning down to gently part Drift's armor plates. His hips never faltered in their rhythm as deep red light spread across his features, turning Drift's pale blue optics close to their original shade. Their frames continued to rock and rub, Drift's seeking release and Wing trying to give it.

With a sound that was half sob, half desperate keen Drift reached up and pulled his lover down, nearly crushing their sparks together.

Threads of golden and red light wound together in an intricate dance, pulling the shining orbs toward each other. Coronas flared and flickered, merging into each other, creating a hundred different shades of orange. There were flickers of pain from lack of experience mixed with the speed, but neither cared. 

Wing moaned softly, his optics flaring brightly. He began rippling the calipers of his valve in a complex rhythm, in time with his own movements on Drift's spike. The physical pleasure built, caressing both their frames through mingled fields.

Nothing in any of his past prepared Wing for the tumble of emotions the sudden spark merge. Pain, loss, anger, weariness and a spark-deep question of whether he was doing the right thing. The Great Sword wanted its bearer a Knight, and Drift had spend long enough simply complying with it that he as beginning to question if he has a will of his own any more.

The white jet wrapped Drift in love and reassurance, once he stopped reeling from the flood of emotions. His spark wrapped around Drift's, his field merging with the white grounder's, trying to soothe his lover. Even without full understanding, Wing had been through the training Drift was and knew it was doing exactly what it was meant to do. Every Initiate was pushed to their limit and frequently past it to ensure that they had what it took to be a Knight before they were trained in any of the more dangerous skills.

White wings trembled as Wing concentrated on sending _love-trust-reassurance_ through their fields and sparks. He _knew_ Drift could do it, and would do very well. The grounder just had to want it. Wing had been bonded to Too Pure For This World long enough to know that while it could be pushy and opinionated, it would never have bonded with Drift if they were truly that opposed. It simply wasn't in the nature of the weapons to accept a bearer they disagreed with too much.

In a mark of how much he'd changed, Drift accepted the comfort and reassurance before frame and spark tumbled into the white oblivious of bliss, dragging a very willing Wing along for the ride. Wing keened, his body trembling and writhing against Drift's, wings twitching. His optics flared nearly white, energy snapping all across his frame.

Under him, Drift went abruptly limp, knocked off line like every other spark overload he'd experienced.

Wing wasn't in much better condition, being almost completely limp. He squirmed until he was curled up against Drift, helm resting on the white grounder's shoulder, one leg over Drift's, and a wing spread possessively over the now-closed white chest. Chirring softly, the white jet snuggled as close as he could get and slipped into an easy light recharge.


	29. The Gift of Flight

Calm saturated Windswept as his systems came online, the new readings and systems blending smoothly with familiar ones so easily that he just relaxed and let it happen. Integrating systems weren't sure yet why he had been placed in stasis, but the lack of any sort of self defense protocols or black spots before he had slipped into the darkness made waking up this time far different than most.

New system readings popped up on his HUD, flashing enough so that he finally paid attention to them. For a moment he studied them blankly, processor trying to work through why he was getting systems pings for wings, and then all of the systems to make them function when he was a simple grounder, until memories caught up with the present.

Wings. His wings. He could _fly_.

Medical overrides kept his systems on-lining at the same methodical rate, but even they could not stop the excitement flaring in his field or the joyful brightness in his optics as they finally came online to view the world around him.

Drift and Wing were standing on one side of the berth. Wing had a grin wide enough to split his face. Drift looked happy, through the worn down that Windswept had gotten used to as from training.

On the other side was Redline, checking over readouts.

"How do you feel?" Wing spoke first, his slender wings fluttering excitedly.

"Good." Windswept's voice was still think with static, the single word really all that he could manage in the moment. But behind it was the truth of the simple statement.

"Good," Drift reached out to stroke a finger down Windswept's cheek. "They look good on you."

Pure _pleasure-joy_ radiated back at the white mechs at Drift's words.

Words that meant so very much to Windswept as a sign that his mate approved of what he had done when there was nothing for Drift to gain from the change.

Drift smiled back and looked up at Redline. "How long until he can try them out?"

"I would like five days and for him to test out all his non-flight based systems and transformations and to make sure all the programming has settled," the medic said, then looked down at Windswept. "Can you keep yourself grounded that long?"

Windswept nodded, then tried speaking again. "Spent my entire functioning on the ground. Five more days is worth being able to fly."

"Then when you feel steady enough to walk, you may return to your quarters. Take it easy," he gave a meaningful glare at Wing, "and come back for a checkup in the morning, _after_ second breakfast."

Windswept nodded in understand before slowly trying to sit up, turning his helm to look eagerly. He could see the flat, wide plain of one deep blue wing with white trim over his shoulder where there would once have been open space.

"They do look good on you," Drift actually purred, his ice blue optics gleaming mischievously.

Windswept trembled a little, emotion swirling through his field. Finding the new controls he stretched them in a cautious first attempt at displaying them, some of his attention on Redline in the case he did something the medic didn't approve of.

Drift's engine revved, sharp and deeply.

"Oh, you _do_ make a fine looking triple," Wing grinned.

"Just remember, take it easy," Redline shook his helm with a tolerant chuckle. "No interfacing until you drop into stasis."

"I understand." Windswept told him, though he made no promises with the bright looks in his mates' optics. He had hoped at most they would be pleased with his new appearance, but the response he was picking up was hinting that they were far more than simply _pleased_.

He reached out, and willing hands helped him to his pedes, steadying his frame until he found his balance. Finally on his pedes Windswept stretched his wings again, extending them fully to get a feel for them and finding this far easier, more natural, then he had expected from the warnings he had been given before the alteration.

Even on the ground they felt wonderful.

Then Drift's hand, fingers spread fully, swept along an entire plane, the grounder's field rich with lust that was very much visually triggered.

"Come on. Let's get to your quarters before we make a mess in the medbay," Wing laughed lightly, delighted by the reactions to his idea.

Windswept had to clamp down on a whimper as he nodded in agreement, that first touch sending shocks of pleasure through him that he didn't know how to handle just yet as he folded his wings away with a struggle.

With a last nod of permission and look of exasperation that warned he better not be seeing Windswept again before his appointed check-up Redline shooed them out the door, a direction Windswept's mates were only too glad to guide him. Drift managed to keep his hands off Windswept's new wings for the walk, but that didn't mean he kept them to himself.

Not unlike when they first arrived in New Crystal City, Drift _missed_ Windswept's company while he'd been in stasis and wanted to use touch to reassure himself that his mate was whole and healthy.

Whole, healthy, and bright excitement met his field, Windswept leaned into the touches and reveled in the affection as much as he could without actually stopping.

On his other side Wing purred and trilled, ecstatic at the scene, the reactions and how _happy_ his little family was. It was more than he'd ever dared to hope for when he'd been allowed to return to a frame, and then found his way back home. He was nearly quivering by the time the door opened and Drift all but pulled Windswept inside and into a hungry, passionate kiss.

The blue mech melted into the kiss, always _willing_ when it came to Wing and Drift, and even more so now when so much of Drift's time was in demand elsewhere. New wings flared again, this time unintentionally in response to the emotions rolling off Drift and Wing.

Wing stepped up behind Windswept, enclosing the new triple changer in a cocoon of love and attention. He kissed Windswept's neck while Drift continued to claim Windswept's mouth and ran his hands down dark blue sides.

Reluctantly Drift broke away slightly. "Berth," he nearly gasped and tugged his mates towards it.

Slightly dazed from all the attention and the heated state his systems were being pushed towards Windswept allowed himself to be led along to the berthroom, wings fluttering and twitching. He didn't miss the way the movement caught Drift's attention or the way his mate had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch.

The soft berth was welcoming, and Windswept soon found himself on Wing's lap as Drift settled behind him. Before Windswept could fully processes the arrangement Wing was kissing him and Drift pressed against his back while his hands swept slowly over wide blue wings.

Sensation flooded him so quickly that Windswept barely caught himself, gasping and grabbing on to Wing blindly. Words were beyond him as he field flared in the first surges of _shock-wonder-pleasure_.

"So lovely," Drift purred, nibbling on the back of his neck as he swept hands along the leading edge of dark blue wings. "So responsive."

Windswept keened, wings pressing into the touch reflexively as fans and cooling systems responded to the quickly building heat and charge taking over his frame. Overbright optics turned to Drift, barely able to focus on his lover but clearly aware of where the pleasure was coming from.

"Good," Drift purred, stroking his hands along the centerline of wide wings once more. "So pretty. So responsive."

Charge flared over the wings, leaping from the plating to Drift's hands as Windswept clung to Wing.

"Let go, Windswept," Wing purred into a kiss as Drift's hands stroked Windswept's wings once more. "It feels so _good_ when you overload."

Windswept keened loudly as his wings flared wide, the next touch on his wings sending him over the edge, the charge locking up his entire frame. Wings pressed back into Drift's hands as his frame pressed against Wing's, optics flaring before going dark, caught up in his first wing overload.

Vents worked furiously to cool the blue frame as Windswept went limp between his lovers, wonder and contentment singing through his field. The soft, affectionate touches of his mates, gentle nuzzling to his helm and his neck as he recovered melted him even more. 

"Wow." He murmured.

"Anther perk of having wings," Wing purred happily. "And you have big wings with _lots_ of sensors."

Windswept hummed softly from where he was, hands running gently over what he could reach of Wing as he considered that. As his systems continued to cool he tilted his helm to look back at Drift again. "You like?"

Strong lips captured his in a kiss. "Yes, very much."

"Glad." Windswept purred, melting into the kiss and the open, undeniable approval in both his mates' fields and touches.

Wing nuzzled him, then gently rolled to his back, his spike sliding out between them. "Be between us?"

"Yes." Windswept agreed, eager, as his valve covers slid away and his field brushed against Drift, even now checking on his mate. The grounder was shivering in excitement and arousal, both from the charge of giving Windswept his first wing overload and the sight now before him.

Drift held back a bit, wanting to watch as Wing and Windswept made the familiar move to slide the jet into the triple changer's front valve.

Familiar and new, the blue mech arched up, wings spreading as Windswept settled on Wing's spike with a shared moan of bliss as his valve was stretched. Windswept leaned down, lips meeting Wing's in a gentle kiss and putting his wings in the white jet's reach. Black hands reached out to stroke them, but with the knowledge of how to make it feel good without feeling _too_ good for the new jet.

Behind them Drift's engine was revving hard. But instead of driving into his mate's back valve he reached out to stroke his fingers along Wing's exposed spike base, around the slick valve it was buried in, then up to the empty one, teasing and smearing the lubricant around the rim.

The blue mech between them moaned, entire frame quivering at the touches teasing the new charge in his frame higher instead of driving him toward it. Wing's hands were maddening when they moved from wings to hips, holding the blue in place and his own hips still as Drift leaned forward to slide his glossa along the empty valve, pressing inward just enough to part the platelets without fully penetrating into the valve beyond.

Windswept whined, a sound of want and desire as he nuzzled at Wing and his field flared out to brush against Drift, pleading to be taken. New wings fluttered and shifted, tempting and inviting.

Drift chuckled and drew his helm back, enjoying the visual for a moment longer before sliding against Windswept's back as he slowly pressed his spike in. A deep moan escaped Drift as he was encased in slick, tight heat and felt the hard line that was Wing's spike below his.

Pleasure flared through Windswept, and with the sense of _right_ that always accompanied being between his two mates, filled and possessed.

Valves rippled around spikes, caressing and welcoming as both white mecha began to move in an alternating thrust that had one drawing out while the other drove deeply.

"So good," Drift moaned, echoing the moans Wing gave. Black hands stroked plating, not paying much attention to who they were touching; they all wished to touch for the pleasure of touching.

Fields blended and melded, intensifying the sharing of the building charge created by three mecha who truly wanted and needed each other with desire that ran deeper than mere pleasure.

Drift was the first to grunt, his thrusts becoming harder, more aggressive and occasionally falling out of rhythm with Wing's.

Feeling the shift Windswept reached down and braced on the berth, tilting his helm to kiss and nip at Wing's neck and face. The jet returned the kisses and focused a little more in pushing his charge high enough to keep pace with Drift. They all knew what got Windswept off the most was the feeling of hot transfluid, especially from them both at once.

Freeing a hand Windswept reached out, managing to find a white wing and caress it, new understanding as to what felt good making the motions more effective than they had ever been in the past.

A deep, rumbling moan echoed in the berthroom as Wing's rhythm faltered with a sharp jerk upwards, his wing straining into the touch.

Drift nipped at Windswept's neck, his ventilations hard and deep as he teetered on the edge. A few more thrusts and he was over it, his roar and field reached out to trip Wing's charge over his threshold.

Hot transfluid flooded both of Windswept's valves as his mates overloaded hard.

Overload slammed through the blue mech, leaving him keening against Wing's neck as every sensor in his frame fired with pleasure. Valves milked the spikes as his field was overwhelmed with the feelings of his mate and the deep rooted personal pleasure of being marked and claimed.

Drift slumped against Windswept's back, his spike twitching inside his mate as he lost himself in the shared bliss. Wing trembled, holding onto both his mates as golden optics whited out with a long, keening moan.

Systems settled slowly, Windswept purring contentedly on the verge of recharge where he was trapped between the strong frames of his mates. Safe, warm, loved...

Blue hands wandered lightly over Wing, tactile confirmation of the field still melded with his own. Against his back Drift was nuzzling absently, all their fields flowing with contentment at both the overload and the company.

Gradually they untangled enough to snuggle with Drift at the bottom and his mates sprawled half on top of him, one on each side and easily slid into a content recharge.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Windswept was almost vibrating where he was sitting on the exam berth, waiting as Redline ran checks and tests to see how the blue mech's alterations were integrating. If everything checked out the medic was supposed to clear him for flight, and Windswept offered a silent prayer to Primus before his optics rose to meet Wing's gold ones.

The older jet smiled warmly and fluttered his short, slender wings in encouragement.

"Have you had any errors?" Redline asked as he finished his readings.

"No. No errors, no problems." Windswept responded as his attention returned to Redline.

"Then you are cleared to begin flight training," the medic smiled with more than a touch of pride in his work. "So shoo."

Windswept scrambled from the table, any dignity forgotten at the idea that that he was cleared to _fly_ , even if it was under strict supervision until his training was complete.

Wing laughed easily and took his hand. "Come on. Let's see how to do with real air under real wings."

Windswept pressed up against him, stretching up to kiss the white jet in his excitement. "Please...unless you think there is a chance Drift will be done early today."

"Not that early," Wing grinned and tugged his mate out of the medbay and towards the nearest roof. "You shouldn't fly for long until you have a good grasp of just how fast you'll burn through your fuel. A couple joors at most."

"All right." Windswept agreed, following wherever Wing chose to lead at the moment, complete trust in the white jet.

They emerged onto the flat roof of the medical tower, a space painted, polished and marked to attract any flier in distress. It was also specially reinforced to not just withstand a crash landing by Dai Atlas, but to cushion his stop by having the upper surface crumble while the supporting floor underneath held firm, protecting both building and mecha.

"If you ever get into trouble, aim for this tower, or any that look like it," Wing said with unusual seriousness given he was all but bouncing on his pedes in excitement himself. "They're all clinics, hospitals or medical of some kind that can take care of a damaged mecha, at least enough to stabilize them for transport."

"I understand." Windswept nodded, making a note as he looked around at the roof, wings spread and twitching in excitement. The layout of the roof memorized, at least as good as it could be from his current angle, Windswept walked to the edge, looking down fearlessly.

Next to him Wing's turbines roared to life and he lifted off with an easy leap. By the time his optics tracked the older jet's movement Wing was three lengths from the edge and looking at Windswept with a smile.

"Take off whenever you're ready. I'll catch you if you fall," Wing promised.

The blue mech vented roughly, running a check on all of the necessary systems like the guidelines said he should before finding the controls for his own turbines.

He had tried them out before on the ground, just to get a feel for the difference when they were running and to make sure they were functioning properly, so he knew exactly where to look. Optics went dark for a moment, centering himself as he fired them, blue optics refocusing on Wing as he stepped off the roof.

And hovered.

The white jet grinned broadly. "Good going," he encouraged. "Let's see you to up three lengths."

Necessary controls were utilized, blue frame shooting upward and overshooting the mark by half a length as Windswept yelped, then looked away in embarrassment.

"No need for that," Wing crooned and slid close with the ease of experience. "Just remember the kind of grief I got into, and I was _sparked_ a flier. Every flier has those stories. It's part of learning to fly."

Windswept relaxed, easing near Wing as he settled again. Blue optics looked skyward, and a hint of mischief crept into the triple changer's field. "I remember, and I hope mine are different. Seeing as how I have a distinct lack of available stalactites."

Wing snickered. "Oh, but you have plenty of buildings, and _far_ more many sand dunes."

Calmed, Windswept smiled eagerly. "What now?"

"We're going to practice controlling your movement in a hover," he smiled in understanding of the moment of disappointment. "Anything with wings can glide around. What will save you is your ability to control your hover."

Windswept considered that, optics still drawn to the open space at the edge of the city. "A few minutes, before we're done?"

"Yes," Wing promised as he slid away. "We'll always make time for some altitude flight. Now, up two lengths, then down one, then forward three."

Content with the promise, Windswept focused on doing just as Wing instructed, determined to get this right. He missed a few more times as Wing drilled him in basic movements, but never to the extent of his first rush upwards.

To an outsider, Wing seemed to be a taskmaster, throwing a new task at Windswept as soon as the blue jet mastered a movement. Windswept, however, was blissfully ignorant of the rapid run of instructions.

He was _flying_.

Every new movement, no matter how small, was something to be mastered and integrated into his growing repertoire of skills. Each small thing was one step closer to being allowed to fly on his own, and he would do whatever it took, as long as it took, to live that dream.

It didn't hurt any that his instructor was attractive, attentive and full of encouragement.

"All right," Wing's shift in tone brought Windswept up short. "Let's go for a little circle around the city. High and wide, outside the traffic patterns."

"After you?" Windswept asked, not wanting to wander into any traffic patterns that he shouldn't be a part of yet and trusting Wing to guide him.

The white jet nodded and made an easy assent strait up to above the city traffic, broadcasting that this was a training flight to warn any random fliers away and to be careful.

Windswept watched, noting Wing's path and following easily in his wake. This was no worse than learning to drive, he reminded himself, and while stupidity was likely to be rewarded with teasing that he would never live down, Wing was not going to allow him to do anything where Windswept could hurt himself. With that in mind, he allowed himself to spare a little extra attention to enjoying what he was doing, the rush of air over his wings, the sweep of sand on his right and the city on his left and the bright blue sky above.

Once they were clear he settled in behind Wing, matching the white jet's speed, pacing him to the rear and off to the side and spread his senses even wider.

He could see forever, and spark soared as everything reminded him where he was and reaffirmed his decision.

Distracted by the glory of flying, Windswept locked a sensor onto Wing to track the larger mech, set some of his controls to auto, and simply _looked_.

The view spread out before him was nothing that he had not seen before with his own two optics and default senses, but it was entirely different from this angle. Buildings and structures familiar enough that he could identify them passed by, but this time he was _over_ them.

Added to it all was the sheer difference of being in the sky. His wings, warmed by the sun overhead and caressed by the wind sweeping over them was a sort of bliss he wanted to continue forever. With it all was a new sense of confidence, safety and freedom born of the realization that he _could_ do something.

It was entirely too soon before Wing began to descend and Windswept realized they were approaching the Knight's Citadel.

::Do you want to land on the roof, or your balcony?:: Wing pinged him.

Windswept drug himself back into the logistics of the present and considered both optics. The roof would be the easier route, a very wide, open space. But he and Drift had been give fliers quarters next to Wing's, with a balcony designed to give the occupants easy access.

::I'd like to try the balcony.::

Wing gave an affirmative hum and landed neatly, giving Windswept a visual guide from above. He then stepped inside, clearing the balcony and turned to watch Windswept come in.

The blue mech's landing wasn't nearly so neat or concise as he touched down, landing a little heavily and dropping to one knee before catching himself. He found Wing's strong, gentle hands on him immediately, cushioning the impact slightly. After a moment he stood into Wing's embrace and was caught in a kiss that expressed all the love and approval the white jet could offer.

"Not bad for your first landing. You didn't crash by any definition," Wing trilled happily. "You'll get better quickly."

Thanks flared through Windswept's field as he wrapped the white jet in an excited hug.

Wing approved. Wing implied that he had done well. A small shiver of pride rippled through Windswept's frame as he kissed Wing. "When can we go up again?"

A laugh, sweet and bright and full of adoration, greeted the question. "When I finish my chores," Wing nuzzled him. "We can get another round in before Drift gets off and refuel you enough for a short show if he's up for it."

Another wave of excitement greeted his suggestion, Windswept snuggling into the affection. "Can I help you today?"

"Yes, _after_ you refuel," Wing chuckled softly and tugged him towards the small energon dispenser in the room. "You're going to burn through a _lot_ until you have a full handle on controlling your systems. Most of us learned as we were upgraded through our frames. You'll have to learn the hard way, but you'll learn much faster."

"All right." Windswept agreed, filling a cube of jet grade without protest and taking a sip, a little surprised and realizing the truth of Wing's words as the energon hit his tanks and he realized just how low his energy levels had dropped.

"Eventually you'll be able to fly all day and night on one cube if you need to," Wing assured him, relaxing with his shoulder against the wall as Windswept drank. "For normal conditions your needs should be comparable to mine. My systems are much more efficient, but I'm also a much higher performance frame with a more active function."

"How much do you need?" Windswept asked, curious. He was well aware that there was a significant design difference between his systems and Wing's. "Redline made sure I have all of the functioning parameters and requirements for the upgrades, but he also told me not to expect the same level of efficiency I was used to from my original systems."

Wing nodded. "I can fly on one cube of jet grade a day, if I have to. It's a miserable existence though, to always be hungry and it does cost me a fair amount of performance if I keep it up for long. Two cubes I can function normally with for vorns if need be, but I do need a third at least occasionally to keep my reserves up or if I perform a full skydance."

Windswept shifted, looking away and shrugged a wing shyly. "I'd like to watch you skydance sometime."

"I'd enjoy skydancing for you sometime soon," Wing purred, his field reaching out to caress the blue jet with _affection-desire_. "I don't have an excuse to do so nearly often enough."

Windswept's field teased back at Wing's, revealing just how willing the small blue mech was to be an excuse for Wing to dance. And with it a small hope that someday Windswept might be good enough to join him.

"You will be," Wing purred.

Finishing off the cube of energon Windswept stretched his wings and focused. "What do we need to do today?"

"Cleaning the halls on level two and three of the main building," Wing's wings twitched in a slight shrug for the long but easy chore.

"Always a better chore with company." Windswept pointed out, moving close enough to kiss Wing softly.

"Mmm," the white jet hummed in agreement, then wrapped an arm around Windswept and guided him out of the room. "So very true."


	30. Displaying for a Mate

Drift finished half a breem earlier than he expected, and was beginning to feel a hint of pride at finishing whatever he was assigned the first time. No longer was he regularly sent to redo his work, now under supervision. It was starting to feel _good_ ... and so was getting enough recharge and have at least a little time to enjoy the company of his mates more evenings than not.

As he returned to the quarters he shared with Windswept, and effectively shared with Wing, though the white jet still had his own quarters next door, he wondered at the changes in himself and where they came from. It wasn't that long ago that he couldn't have felt anything but resentment for manual labor another insisted he do. Now ... he could see how his work joined with the work of others to make the Knight's Citadel, his _home_ , a nice place to live.

His processors were still mildly in wonder of that when his door slid open for him, and the absence of the mecha he'd become accustomed to being there to greet him. With a cautious look around he made his way to the balcony and looked up, well aware of Windswept's addiction to his new ability.

Windswept and Wing were hovering in the air above and away from the balcony, Wing speaking calmly and clearly as he explained some new aspect of flying to Windswept. The blue mech drifted a little as he considered what the white jet was telling him before nodding slowly and moving farther away.

As Drift watched his smaller mate started through some sort of motion, clearly concentrating on every aspect of what has was doing as he rotated and swerved before freezing. Blue optics lit in _total_ comprehension as Windswept returned to his starting point and moved through an entire series of motions gracefully and confidently, ending with a smooth halt in front of Wing.

The white jet smiled and praised him quietly while Drift relaxed and leaned against the railing that was on one side of the balcony. Windswept was good, he had no issues saying it. It was nice to watch the pair fly too, even in practice.

He rather hoped it meant that they'd get their flying with each other and leave him well out of the equation.

Above him Wing gave Windswept another pattern to perform, and Drift was able to watch the blue mech work through from the first few clumsy attempts to another perfection.

Throughout it all Windswept was never frustrated or angry, taking all of his mistakes and successes in stride until he figured it out and was able to present Wing with success. To the blue mech simply being in the air was wonderful. Learning to fly was bliss.

Wing had warned him that Windswept would stay in the air until he fell out of it from exhaustion, and Drift was able to finally see the truth first hand. It was one of those truths they had in common. Once Drift set his processors on something, he didn't hesitate to work himself to collapse if that's what it took.

A soft smile crossed Drift's face. It was good to watch his mate so _happy_ doing something for himself. Sure, he was clearly out to please Wing, but the blue mech was up there in the first place only for his own desires. That was evident in Windswept's next action. Every motion was graceful and clean as the blue mech swept around Wing, teasingly just out of reach with a smile on his face before he pivoted away.

Then Windswept started to dance in the sky, not nearly as complex as Wing was able to manage and cramped by the limited space of the restriction of remaining over the Knight's Citadel and under five hundred meters until Wing said otherwise, but still spark stopping to watch as every move spoke of simple joy and pure happiness.

Drift felt his engine rev at the sight, a warmth filling his spark he never anticipated was possible at simply watching something.

A signal went out on a general Knight's frequency, short range so it was simply an alert around the Citadel. A squadron of three were scrambling to escort someone in. It didn't mean much to most Knights, but as Windswept was still in training, Wing called him close to hover out of the way until the squadron had left.

The blue mech moved smoothly out of the way, dropping down near the Citadel and finally noticing that they had an audience.

"Drift!" In a moment he was on the balcony, greeting his mate affectionately, field still full of the contentment and joy flying brought him.

"You're amazing," Drift purred, nuzzling him in a warm embrace as a beaming Wing joined them. "This from only a half decaorn of practice."

"He has a natural spark-talent for it," Wing's pleasure at the easy instruction was bright against their fields. "It's fun to be up with him."

Windswept chirped softly and buried his face against Drift's shoulder, embarrassed and pleased by the praise offered so freely over something that brought him so much joy.

Drift chuckled and Wing smiled at the reaction.

"So is helping me clean up properly enough to tempt you to stay in the ground for a joor?" Drift asked. He really did want a reasonably good detailing now that he had managed to get enough time to do it without dropping into recharge under the shower, and having his mates help not only make it more effective and efficient, but made it enjoyable rather than a chore.

"Always." Windswept answered instantly, lifting his helm to kiss his mate. Even flying was still secondary to Drift and anything that involved the white grounder.

"Thank you," Drift returned the kiss with the warmth he felt and as much conviction that Windswept was doing him a favor as he could express. He was half aware of Wing slipping inside the quarters to start the shower and get the supplies ready.

Content to let Wing see to getting things ready, and knowing that the white jet knew where Windswept kept everything they would need, Windswept relaxed in the arms of his mate, enjoying a few moments of peace. "How long did you watch?" he asked softly, visualizing his performance in his processor and instantly acting as his own worst critic by identifying every mistake and flaw.

"A few kliks," Drift smiled. "I thought you looked good."

"Still learning." Windswept murmured, though he did nothing to try and contain the pride that welled up at the compliment.

"So am I, but you don't enjoy watching any less," Drift chuckled into a light kiss.

Windswept hummed his acceptance of that truth as his hands began to wander slowly over Drift's frame, noting the accumulated scuffs, scrapes, and dents that were the result of every day wear from the last time they'd managed to really spend some time detailing him. "Ready to clean up?"

"Yes," Drift purred, anticipating _looking_ respectable nearly as much as having both his mates pay the kind of attention to him. With only a tiny bit of reluctance he drew away from his mate and turned, Windswept still tucked against his side, to join Wing in the washrack. It was a luxury that he wouldn't normally have as an Initiate, but because he was mated to a true dependent he had been granted both it and the larger quarters of a full Knight with a mate; larger even than Wing's with the berthroom separate from living quarters and a small kitchen.

Because they had it all three mechs took advantage of it, Wing and Windswept directing Drift under the warm solvent spray and tackling the worst of the surface dirt with stiff brushes.

Drift nearly melted at the attention, quiet moans and flares of _enjoyment-pleasure_ dancing in his field as it caressed his lovers. He reached for a brush, intent on helping out for once. This was turning into such a good evening on so many counts.

"You can just enjoy." Windswept reminded him, nuzzling at the shoulder he was working on as his field brushed against Drift's, thick with just how much pleasure Windswept got from just caring for his mate.

"I know," Drift murmured, his movements slowing. "Just feels weird, being tended to."

Wing leaned close and kissed his spaulder. "We're doing it because we want to," he promised, gently reaching for the brush in Drift's hand. He took it without resistance as Drift turned his optics off.

Windswept hummed soothingly as he continued to work, trading out the large, stiff brush for softer, finer one that could work down in the creases and joints of the white grounders armor.

"Love taking care of you." Windswept said as he worked, and his field flared with how much he loved Drift. Nowhere in the mix was there any of the feelings that would come with a service given unwillingly or under duress, only desire and pride in his mate.

Drift's field replied with thanks, approval and love before the words even processed. It was only a few moments before Drift sank fully into the bliss that was being detailed by two mecha that adored him enough that this was an honest pleasure for them.

"Would you like to see us skydance together?" Wing asked with a flare of _excitement-desire-curiosity_.

"Anytime I can," Drift smiled warmly at them, his field bright with adoration and desire that wasn't entirely sensual.

There was an answering surge of delight from Windswept, wings fluttering in anticipation on so many different levels.

Wing had said "us", a willingness to dance _with_ Windswept, not just instruct him. Drift _liked_ the idea of watching, and Windswept could feel that the white grounder derived true pleasure from it. And it meant flying, an addiction that Windswept found was only growing stronger and that he had no desire to escape.

"Well, you've gotten past the worst part of initiation, so you should be able to watch more nights than not," Wing purred. "There's a lot to go before you're past the hazing stage, but you've survived the worst of it. Well, I think it's the worst part for you, but I could be wrong."

"What else will they do?" Drift asked, curious and wary.

"Well, there will be a section where you'll be forced to fight and work _hard_ on a very limited ration," Wing said quietly, his wings fluttering in remembered misery and distress. "I ... doubt it'll be as bad as you've already survived, but for most it's their first real taste of _hunger_."

Windswept faltered for a moment as Wing described that stage of the knight training. "Warn me before you start that one?" He requested quietly, looking from Drift to Wing.

"As much as I can," Drift promised, turning to embrace his mate and stroke blue wing flaps soothingly. "Though Wing's right. I doubt they'll come close to what I know how to work through."

"Don't doubt you." Windswept said as he leaned into the touch.

Drift hummed acceptance, giving Windswept a little more comfort before letting go and turning around. He really did need to be clean.

With a small smile Windswept returned to working on his mate, concentrating on the back that he been presented to him as he cleaned transformation seams and weapons mounts carefully. While he personally had no objection to working his mate up or the consequences of those actions, the times when Drift was willing to submit to a full cleaning and detailing were rare enough that Windswept was not going to pass one up.

Wing seemed to have a similar train of thought going as he concentrated on the upper reaches of Drift's chest and shoulders, places harder for Windswept to reach.

"Who came in?" Drift asked absently, just for something to talk about so he didn't slip into a pleasant recharge standing up.

"A couple old friends of my creators," Wing brightened as he worked on Drift's chest. "Titanium and his mate GoldenRod."

"We know them." Windswept commented as he worked. "You beat Titanium in a sparring match when were in Iacon to have my programming fixed."

"Yes, he's _good_ ," Drift added. "Not as good as you, much less Dai Atlas."

"Have you met them?" Windswept asked, dropping to his knees to have better access to Drift's hips and lower extremities.

"Only stories," he shook his helm as he stole a quick kiss from Drift before moving on to his other spaulder. "He was still more blaster oriented then, but it was before my creators had any Metallikato training."

"They were interesting." Windswept commented. Had no trouble imagining Dai Atlas and Titanium knowing each other.

"Oh yeah, and I bet he has lots of _interesting_ stories about my creators," Wing trilled in excitement. "He knew them when they'd just been sparked. Helped train them for the military."

Windswept could feel Drift shift in interest, and imagining the stories the large mech might know was enough to make even the blue mech curious. Finishing with Drift's legs he stood and snuggled up against his mates back for a moment, looking at Wing. "Done?"

"Close enough," the white jet nodded, putting the brush away and turning the solvent spray off, switching it to clean water for a moment to rinse them off, then the blowers to dry them quickly. They weren't steps normally bothered with, but when polish and waxing was in the plans, it was a good idea.

He handed a set of tools and polishes to Windswept and went to work himself.


	31. Old Stories

Titanium stood at the top of his shuttle's boarding ramp, pausing to take a look around. It took half a klik for his optics to adjust to the twin suns overhead as he took in the gleaming towers reaching toward the sky.

It had been quite a shock. He and GoldenRod had been passing near a system that every database they knew of listed as "uninhabited". Not even the Decepticons were out here. The comm signal alone had been a shock; to hear the voice of a very old friend even more so. The signal had guided them to a desert planet, to a clearly Cybertronian city on its surface.

Ruby optics landed on two very familiar mechs waiting nearby, one blue and white, one glossy black. The big Autobot gazed at them for a moment, his optics brightening.

"Your friends?" GoldenRod asked curiously, trotting down the ramp, his near-mirror finish blinding those below for a brief moment.

"Yes, they are. I haven't seen either of them in forever." Titanium trotted toward them, his mate jogging to keep even with him. "So this is where you two have been hiding!"

"Us, and nearly every sane mecha we could convince to leave Cybertron," Dai Atlas reached out and gripped his old friend's arm in a warrior's greeting.

"It's good that you survived," Axe added warmly. "Who's the shiny one?"

Titanium returned the greeting, clasping the blue mech's arm firmly, chuckling at Axe's comment. "Too stubborn to deactivate. You should know that by now." Releasing Dai Atlas' arm and briefly clasping Axe's, he indicated the golden mech beside him. "This is GoldenRod, my bonded mate. Goldie, Dai Atlas and Axe, old comrades of mine from Cybertron."

GoldenRod took a step forward, optics bright with curiosity. "A pleasure to meet both of you."

"Welcome to New Crystal City," Axe grinned down at him. "So how long has the old backfire been filling your helm with stories of us?"

GoldenRod laughed, his spoiler shifting slightly. "A long time. I think he's told me at least half of all the better stories."

Titanium made a mock-indignant sound. "I am not an old backfire."

Dai Atlas snorted. "No, you're a fossil."

"Hey!"

"So you're older than a fossil?" Axe asked innocently. "You were older than old to Ironhide when dear Dai was in training."

Titanium rolled his optics. "I can still outfly the two of you, old or not. And don't forget, I have enough stories of youthful stupidity, clumsiness, and general idiocy on both of you to make sure no one will be able to take you seriously for decades."

GoldenRod was laughing too hard to respond, his blue optics sparkling up at his mate as the purple and silver triple shook his helm.

"It's not as if we don't have just as much on you," Dai Atlas chuckled and waved them to follow. "Come. I have good energon and we can catch up."

"I have no doubt you do," GoldenRod replied, finally getting his laughter under control. "But unlike you, he doesn't have to convince anyone in this city to listen to him."

Titanium looked at Axe sidelong. "Is he any better at holding his high grade now than he was back then?"

"Just better at controlling how much he drinks," Axe chuckled as they walked. "Getting heavily overcharged goes against our training as Knights."

The bigger triple changer chuckled. "Glad to hear that. I'd rather not have to retrieve his overcharged aft from wherever he manages to get stuck."

Dai Atlas growled at the both of them as GoldenRod snickered.

"Remember I was there for some of those adventures," Axe laughed. "And I remember having to retrieve you a few times."

"And I remember swatting your hands away from me when you got overcharged," Titanium retorted with a chuckle. "We had to tie you down once or twice to get you to keep your hands to yourself."

"And take the cube away from you other times," Dai Atlas grinned at his mate, who snorted.

"Just because I'm affectionate when I'm overcharged," Axe grumbled.

"At least now you've got a mate to paw at when you've had a little too much," the purple and silver mech pointed out serenely, though his optics were sparkling.

"A mate who enjoys it," Axe purred, leaning his shoulder against his mate's.

"Not that it matters anymore," Dai Atlas leaned back with an affectionate brush of his field.

"Can you fly?" Axe turned to look at GoldenRod.

"I'm a grounder, though I have some limited ability for low flight. I'm not maneuverable and I have a low altitude ceiling, but I can fly. Sort of." The golden mech flicked his spoiler in a shrug.

"I can carry him," Titanium added, his wings shifting higher on his back, framing the hilts of his twin swords.

"That doesn't count and you know it," Dai Atlas chuckled as the lift door opened and they piled in. "We can all carry a grounder."

Snorting, Titanium reached out and tweaked one of Dai Atlas' helm crests. "I recall you being more than a little reluctant to haul grounders. Have you gotten over that yet?"

GoldenRod rolled his optics, swatting Titanium's shoulder.

"I'm not a shuttle," Dai Atlas swatted him back. "But yes, I carry them when needed."

The other mech dodged the swat. "Glad to hear it." He leaned against the lift wall. "Every database in the sector has this system listed uninhabited. How is it that no one ever managed to spot this city?"

"A significant amount of work," Dai Atlas went serious. "For much of our history, we've been underground. Lately we've only retreated for heavy sand storms and when an unfriendly ship comes too close. New Crystal City, the exodus I organized, was to preserve Cybertron's history, culture and arts. A key feature of the plan was to be very careful about who knew about this place. It is difficult to attack a location that does not exist, even in legend."

"Good point." Titanium nodded. His optics flicked to the hilt showing over Dai Atlas' helm. "Great Swords?"

GoldenRod leaned over to look around Dai Atlas. "I've heard of them."

"Yes," Dai Atlas inclined his helm before turning and unfolding his wings more fully so they could see the entire blade as it traveled down his spinal strut. "The dojo I joined when I left the military taught Metallikato, though I didn't know it until I finished my Initiate training. The Knights of Light came from there, though all were sworn to secrecy before they were allowed to leave the dojo grounds."

Both Autobots leaned over to look, though neither got too close. "So that's where you disappeared to... I'd wondered. I missed your help in scaring the rookies into behaving. Even now there are still some who would benefit from a good freaking out, if only to get them to fly in a straight line."

"He almost got hit by an Aerialbot who was a little too fascinated by his gold markings," GoldenRod told the two Knights.

"An Aerialbot?" Dai Atlas raised an optic ridge. "By any chance does he go by the designation Fireflight?"

Titanium groaned. "That mech has empty space where he should have a processor, I swear to Primus. I lost count of how many trees I had to fish him out of before I got away from the Earth team. Though I do admit that was the first time I've ever nearly gotten hit for being shiny. Silverbolt managed to catch the airhead before he hit me, thank Primus."

"Yep, Fireflight," GoldenRod confirmed. "He's chased me for being shiny a few times, but I have more options concerning hiding places, being a grounder."

"Did he ever catch you?" Axe was suddenly _very_ interested, and Dai Atlas was focused far too much for a mecha he shouldn't know.

GoldenRod shook his helm. "No, he's never caught me. He's run into a few things trying, but I'm very good at dodging. With a paint job like this, I have to be." He eyed the two larger mechs curiously.

"My altitude ceiling is higher than theirs, so I just keep out of reach." Titanium shrugged. He tilted his helm to one side. "They're a little after your time, aren't they?"

"Yes," Dai Atlas nodded, pausing as they exited the lift. "Did they ever speak of Wing to you?"

"Not to me, but I have heard of him. Word spread fairly quickly through Autobot ranks. Caught a glimpse of him once, but only from a distance." Titanium looked askance at his old friend. "How do _you_ know about this? They were pretty intent on keeping their sparkling a secret."

"Did you hear how he took off on his own as a youngling, was never heard of again?" Dai Atlas asked calmly as he guided them all to the door to the large suite he shared with Axe.

"Hacked an interstellar shuttle and stole it," Axe added.

GoldenRod chuckled. "Who hasn't. The Aerials were frantic with worry. Still are, actually... Fireflight keeps asking all of those who roam the outer fringes of space, like Titan and myself, if we've seen him."

Titanium gave Dai Atlas a suspicious look. "How do you know about that?"

"He was headed here, to us," the blue and white triple changer explained while Axe palmed the door open. "Wing, our youngest creation, was extinguished in the battle that proved Drift to be worthy to bear a Great Sword. Primus ... granted him not just his wish to return, but by the time he was a mid-stage youngling, he remembered all of his existence as our Wing. He made it here and is once more a full Knight of Light."

The big Autobot blinked several times. "Wing is here?"

GoldenRod looked from Titanium to Dai Atlas. "Once the Aerials hear, you're going to have the whole swarm descending on you, I should warn you."

Titanium made a rumbling sound. "Not without someone to keep them from getting too out of hand. As if I'd give them the coordinates."

"Please do not speak of this city at all," Dai Atlas stiffened. "We are no more Autobot friendly than Decepticon friendly," he said firmly. "Titanium and Drift were both welcomed because we know them. We do not know these Aerialbots."

Red optics met red optics. "I won't mention the city. But he's as much theirs as he is yours; they have a right to know at least that he's alive and doing well."

"So this is where Drift ended up?" GoldenRod interrupted.

"Yes," Axe nodded and motioned everyone to get comfortable. "We are currently training him to become a Knight of Light. Wing was beyond happy to see his mate again, even if Drift was too shocked to react well for a moment. Windswept is doing well. They make a nice triad."

"Drift did pass on your greeting," Dai Atlas added as he moved to collect four cubes. "Grounder or jet grade, GoldenRod?"

"Grounder, please," GoldenRod replied, settling next to Titanium on the couch.

Titanium's wings relaxed. "I was going to ask about Windswept. It was one of ours, a mech named Medic Alert, who did the initial repairs after Windswept was assaulted, and he reported to Ratchet when he returned to Cybertron. Ratchet threw the mother of all fits when he learned that Drift wasn't bringing Windswept back to Iacon."

"I don't doubt it," Dai Atlas chuckled as he returned with the cubes, handing a smaller, lighter one to GoldenRod. "Drift kept him in stasis for the journey. Our medic, Redline, said the repairs that were done were well done. He's still a bit edgy about strangers, but he's doing well here at the Citadel where he knows everyone. He was upgraded a few orns ago to a small triple. He's adapting to wings quite well."

GoldenRod nodded his thanks, accepting the cube. He sipped at it, settling back.

Titanium blinked. "He's a triple now? Glad to hear he's doing well. We met him in Iacon when Drift had his slave programming lifted. Very nice mech."

"He is," Dai Atlas agreed. "A good influence on Drift, and even on Wing. So what have you two been up to since we parted ways?"

"I became an Autobot, obviously." Titanium tapped the insignia on his cockpit. "I trained fliers for quite a while... Formation flying and precision flying. Startled quite a few of the smaller airframes by being as maneuverable as I am despite the size of my flight mode. Can still outfly most of the younger generations. When the war really heated up and red optics became almost exclusively a 'Con trait, I left Cybertron and became a nomad."

"I came from one of Cybertron's colonies," GoldenRod told them, curling one leg under him. "The 'Cons hit us without warning. I'm the only one who made it out. Some centuries after that, I very literally ran into Titan here. Sent him helm over skidplate."

Axe snickered. "Sounds a bit like how Wing and Drift first met. Though without the gunfire."

"Yes, Drift doesn't take well to being startled," Dai Atlas grumbled, flicking a wing in betrayal of just how unhappy he was about the reactions his Initiate had when he responded on pure instinct.

GoldenRod chuckled. "He was already damaged; I rounded a boulder in vehicle mode and hit him right in the shins. Flipped him right over me. He wasn't happy when he finally came to."

Dai Atlas raised an optic ridge at the golden mech. "How much of your front end did he crush?"

"I looked like I'd run into a pole," GoldenRod admitted. "Took a few orns to get all the dents out. He also left a pretty good dent in my roof, and took off part of my spoiler when he went over me."

"I was already damaged, so the impact and the landing didn't help my condition any," Titanium added, taking a drink of his own cube.

"I bet not," Axe snickered. "Quite a way to meet up, I must say. You definitely have some things in common with our pair. They got pretty trashed on their first date as well."

"Not that Drift had a clue it was a date," Dai Atlas shook his helm. "I'm sure he'll deny it until he bonds, but I'm sure Wing was stalking Drift for days before they finally spoke."

"He _was_ rather distracted for a while," Axe said thoughtfully. "I figured it was the slavers getting to him."

The golden mech tilted his helm as he listened to Axe and Dai Atlas. "I'll take your word for that, since we weren't here."

"You know how bad a patient I am when I'm damaged," Titanium pointed out to the two Knights. "Not only did he take my ranting in stride, he gave as good as he got. So I decided to stick with him. Eventually we ended up bonding."

"Just proof that there is someone for everyone," Dai Atlas teased his old friend. "Even you."

Titanium lifted an optic rim. "Is that an offer?"

Blue and red optics looked at him with matching confusion.

"My mate," Axe snapped out of it first. "You can't have him."

GoldenRod laughed. "Not what he meant. Forget it. We're already bonded, and he's never even looked at anyone else that way."

"What did you mean?" Dai Atlas asked cautiously, having that bad feeling he was missing half the conversation. ~I think this is what our Knights deal with when we start talking only half out loud.~

~Probably,~ Axe agreed, equally curious.

The two Autobots looked at each other, obviously communicating through their own bond. After a moment GoldenRod shook his helm, and Titanium flicked his wings slightly, settling back.

"Nothing of any import," the gold-armored mech replied. "Tell us more about the city?"

"Did you hear anything of the exodus?" Dai Atlas asked, willing to let the subject drop for the moment.

"I did hear about it, though mostly as rumors," Titanium replied. "I was up to my wings in battle at the time, and I'm assuming you were making some effort to stay under the radar to avoid being blown out of the sky."

"Very much so," Dai Atlas nodded. "We were taking much of the best and brightest with no intention to return. Both sides wanted me to fail quite badly. Between when we parted company and when the exodus happened I trained to become a Knight of Light, and eventually came to lead the Order; one of only five Masters of Metallikato among the Knights of Light."

"I was another one," Axe spoke up.

"After much debate, I chose to have the order and as much of the sane left on Cybertron leave to found a new city that would remain free of the war that I could see would not end. Not with anything left at any rate."

"So we, the Order, used contacts from our former lives and our status as Knights to invite those who had skills and talents we wished to preserve; artists, crafters, teachers, performers, those with the training we would need to escape the war and those who had the skills we would need for the city to thrive.

"We built ships, six in all, designed to be too fast to catch but with enough endurance to make it so far out that no one would find us," Dai Atlas sipped his energon, his optics dim as he remembered those dark, stressful times. "I wanted to invite you, but I knew you weren't ready for a life of peace or the life of a Knight."

"Not at that point, I wasn't," the older mech agreed. "Now, though, I'd gladly leave the war behind. It's too much, even for me." He shifted slightly. "At least our culture wasn't totally lost. Cybertron doesn't have much left; most of what there is now has been influenced by contact with other races."

"Which is exactly what New Crystal City was founded to avoid," Dai Atlas nodded, humming thoughtfully. "We may not have saved everything, but we saved so much, both in records and in the memories of those who survived because they joined us. Close to a hundred thousand mecha live here. No one is hungry. No one lacks shelter. No one lacks medical care. Though there are few who do not work, they are not forgotten or left to die. All who live here enjoy standard of existence comparable to a freshly graduated grunt of my time. The energon isn't great and the shelter isn't nice, but you don't have to worry about where you will recharge or if you'll have enough fuel to survive."

"Every citizen agreed to the terms before we came," Axe picked up. "One of the great causes of unrest were the starving masses. If there are no mecha lacking for the basics of existence, we had a much better chance to maintain a peaceful society without resorting to strict laws."

The big Autobot nodded slowly as he considered that. "Better system than anything Cybertron came up with... Or tried to, anyway. You made it work, and the results are most definitely impressive."

"By the time I made it anywhere near Cybertron, all the cities were in ruins from the fighting," GoldenRod added. "Until now I've never seen a Cybertronian city that wasn't at least half scrapped."

"We made it work largely because every citizen agreed to what it takes to make it work before we allowed them to join the exodus. There are less than a score of mecha who joined us after we founded the city," Dai Atlas said cautiously. "I am still uncertain if it would work in the more uncontrolled environment of a world that has easy addition of new mecha."

"There would likely be problems," GoldenRod commented after a moment. He shifted to lean against his mate, managing to wriggle his way under Titanium's arm. "Not anything I'd like to dwell on."

The Knights nodded.

"It's part of our function as city leaders now to dwell on such things," Axe said after a sip of energon. "It is too important to city policies to ignore."

"But not something we need to dwell on here," Dai Atlas added. "You believe you are ready to settle into a life of peace?"

Titanium extended his EM field to mesh lightly with Dai Atlas', letting the other mech feel just how sick the big Autobot was of the fighting. He'd been at it longer than the blue mech had, from the butchery of the arenas to the current civil war, and he'd had enough of it to last him a lifetime.

The gold mech's field slowly edged in. GoldenRod hadn't even been a warrior until after the destruction of his home. Given a choice he'd willingly put down his rifle permanently.

Dai Atlas and Axe both examined them carefully, then pulled their fields back to confer privately. After a brief moment Dai Atlas focused on his old friend. "Do you know what you can offer the city in exchange for residence?"

"I can train fliers," Titanium replied after a moment of thought. "Precision flying, formation flying. I've worked with search-and-rescue teams before, as well. And Goldie, believe it or not, paints. I'm covered in his work. You'd need to shine a colored light on me to see most of it, though."

"May we see?" Axe asked politely, though there was no mistaking his honest and keen interest.

Titanium chuckled, rising to his pedes. GoldenRod almost bounced to his, pulling out a handlight. Turning it on, he slid a colored filter over it, turning it toward his mate. Delicate, intricate patterns flared to life on the bigger mech's armor: stylized animals, tribal designs, intricate abstracts. He even had a pattern of irregular spots or rings with a center spot along the upper edge of his wings.

"I can do that in regular paints, or this kind, only visible under certain colors of light," the gold mech added.

"Yes, you can contribute nicely," Axe rumbled his approval, which Dai Atlas agreed to.

"We will speak for you before the City Council when you petition for residence," Dai Atlas promised. "They have yet to refuse a petition we have backed."

Axe chuckled. "That's because we're careful to only back those that have a legitimate case and can contribute to society, rather than being a burden."

GoldenRod almost glowed. "It'll be nice to not have to fight anymore."

Titanium nodded, his wings relaxing. "It'll be nice not having to worry about having an edgy rookie mistake me for a 'Con and shoot at me."

"It's really that bad?" Axe looked nearly dumbstruck, staring between Titanium and Dai Atlas, trying to picture such a thing happening to his mate.

"Red optics are almost exclusively a 'Con trait now," GoldenRod explained.

"Things have changed a _lot_ since you left." Titanium settled back onto the couch. "The majority of Autobots have blue optics, and those who had red optics, for the most part, had them switched over. I'm too stubborn and too old now to have mine changed. A winged figure with red optics... For those who've never met me before, the reaction is an automatic 'CON!'. I've gotten shot like that so many times I've lost count. Last time, the medic threw the biggest fit I have ever witnessed, almost verbally took the armor off the rookie in question."

"At least it seems to be a rookie thing, rather than something command actually allows," Dai Atlas murmured, more than slightly disturbed. How many of the warriors he knew had blue optics? He was hard pressed to think of more than a few. "Did Ironhide, or has he fallen?"

"Ironhide's still alive... He's one of the Prime's closest friends and advisers." Titanium took a sip of his cube. "Yes, he has blue optics now. I think it's only myself and one of the gestalt leaders, mech by the name of Hot Spot, who have red optics."

"Isn't he quite the youngster?" Axe asked, remembering Wing's stories of the gestalt that often watched over him when the Aerialbots were required elsewhere.

Titanium nodded. "Younger than the Aerialbots. Why they gave him red optics, I have no idea. He doesn't get nearly as many weird looks as I do."

"Isn't he a grounder too? Fire suppression vehicle or something of the like?" Axe drew on old memories.

"Fire engine," GoldenRod confirmed. "Only one of that team who isn't a grounder is Blades, and he's a helicopter."

"Hardly the same class as a Seeker," Dai Atlas chuckled. "Do I even want to know why 'fire suppression' was changed to 'fire engine'?"

"His Earth alt mode was a fire engine, though an oddly colored one." Titanium flicked his wings in a shrug, shifting one sword into a more comfortable position on his back. "Earth terms are contagious, apparently."

"Yes, I have noticed from Wing and Drift, though neither are that attached to it now that they are among Cybertronians once more," Dai Atlas didn't hide his relief. "It was most disturbing to have Wing know so many new words when he came home. Would you like a tour of the city?"

"Yes, thank you." Both Autobots finished their energon, putting the empty cubes aside. GoldenRod bounced to his pedes, optics bright, Titanium smiling at his mate's enthusiasm.

* * *

Both of the Autobots thoroughly enjoyed the tour, taking in the sights. Their insignias had gotten wary and cautious looks from some of the other residents of the city, and it was just as clear that the presence of the Knights eased many fears. GoldenRod had been eagerly asking questions while Titanium had been content to just listen, admiring the architecture and the ornamentation.

Eventually, the group returned to the Citadel. The gold mech was practically bouncing, much to his mate's amusement as they made their way back to Dai Atlas and Axe's quarters.

"Creators!" Wing's happy chirp caught them by surprise.

Four pairs of optics turned toward the sound of Wing's voice. Axe smiled at the white jet while GoldenRod sidestepped out from behind the black mech, looking curiously at Wing. Titanium leaned around Dai Atlas, flicking his wings and grinning.

"So are you going to introduce me?" Wing flicked his slender wings, his optics locked on Dai Atlas. "I _am_ the only one here who doesn't know them."

The blue mech snorted to himself, indicating the larger of the two newcomers. "This ancient rustbucket is Titanium, a comrade and close friend of mine from Cybertron."

Titanium's wings twitched. "'Ancient rustbucket'?" the triple changer repeated in mock-annoyance, reaching around to catch Dai Atlas in a headlock, rasping his knuckles across the blue mech's helm before letting him go. He easily sidestepped Dai Atlas' swat in his direction.

"I like you more already," Drift couldn't contain his laughter.

Axe shook his helm at both of them. "The gold-armored mech is Titan's bondmate, GoldenRod. Goldie, Titan, this is Wing."

"Hi," Wing chirped happily at them. "So you're Autobots?"

Titanium grinned at Drift. "I've known this pile of spare parts a long time; I know all his buttons and just how to push them. And I know pretty much every stupid thing he ever did in his entire career on Cybertron." 

GoldenRod swatted his mate's hip, nodding to Wing. "We are. And you are the Wing who was raised by the Aerialbots?"

"I am," Wing nodded, his wings twitching in a mixture of good memories and unease. "You've been told the full story?" he flicked his chin at Dai Atlas.

"We've heard," Titanium confirmed, leaning casually against the wall. He tilted his helm slightly. "You look quite a bit different than you did the first time I saw you, but then, at the time, you were a third this size and I was a half mile away, more or less..."

"Which covers why I didn't notice you," Wing ducked his helm. "Probably trying not to crash at the time."

"Disappearing the way you did almost sent them into processor failure," GoldenRod commented, causing Wing to duck his helm like a severely chastised youngling. "They're still looking for you."

"I sent a message," the white jet quivered unhappily. "They _knew_ my memories were mostly back."

Titanium tweaked a gold spoiler-tip. "At least he's somewhere safe."

"That he is," Dai Atlas rumbled.

The gold mech twitched his spoiler, catching sight of the other mech with Drift and Wing. "Windswept?"

"Titanium. Goldendrod. It's good to see you," the blue jet smiled at him, then flared his wings wide when he caught them looking, the blue panels quivering with delight as he showed off the change. "I'm still learning to fly, but...." he drifted off, unable to articulate just how incredible it was to have wings of his own.

"Didn't make it any easier for them to lose you," GoldenRod pointed out to Wing before turning his attention back to the small blue mech. A grin appeared on the gold mech's face. "You look great as a triple changer."

Titanium tilted his helm. "It's good to see you up and about and doing well. We heard about what happened when Medic Alert reached Cybertron... I think Ratchet almost blew a gasket."

The blue jet ducked and quivered, his entire being radiating _apology-misery_.

" _My_ choice," Drift said firmly as he turned to focus on comforting his mate. "It was my choice, nothing for you to apologize for," he murmured to Windswept.

"Ratchet eventually calmed down," GoldenRod added. "Though if I were either of you two, I'd make sure not to be in his immediate vicinity for a century or so."

"We have no intention of leaving the city," Drift said firmly, though it was directed more at Windswept and the slight twitch Wing gave at the mere idea of them leaving.

Titanium took a step toward Drift, pulling something from subspace and handing it to the white grounder. It was a roughly diamond-shaped metal plate nearly as long as the big Autobot's hand, colored dark gunmetal or charcoal gray with part of an irregular deep blue and purple blotch covering half of it. "He finished what you started."

Drift's optics cycled once, then he smiled in the way that was far more remenisent of Deadlock than the Knight Drift was becoming and accepted the scale of the serpent mech. "If you cross paths with him, tell him thank you for me and that Windswept is doing well."

"Who?" Windswept looked at the strange object before it went into Drift's subspace.

"Idarassi," Drift murmured. "He helped rescue you."

The blue jet twitched at the reminder, then settled as he put the various statements together. "You ... you let him hunt them down?"

"I had to take care of you," Drift said simply.

"Ida is normally a peaceful mech, but he has a low tolerance for those who hurt people for sport or for their own twisted pleasure," Titanium told Windswept. The big mech nodded to Drift. "If he ever crosses our path again, we'll let him know."

"Though we might not see him again, as we too might have found a home here," GoldenRod chirped.

"Oh?" Drift raised an optic ridge at the pair. "For what?"

Titanium flicked his wings. "I'm older than he is, and I've been fighting a lot longer." He pointed at Dai Atlas. "I've had enough of it. Don't want to fight anymore. I train fliers and I work with search-and-rescue teams. But I'm done with the war."

"I fight because I had to after my colony was destroyed," GoldenRod added. "Otherwise, I am a painter, an artist."

"Both of them will be welcome here," Dai Atlas added, shifting his own wings.

Drift nodded his acceptance of it all.

"I think you'll like it here," Windswept offered cautiously with a smile. "I think it's a wonderful city."

"Come on, let's sit down and enjoy a cube while we catch up," Axe grinned at the gathering.

"From what we've seen, it is a wonderful city," GoldenRod agreed, choosing to settle on his mate's lap to free up seating space. Titanium didn't seem to mind, his wings dropping into a relaxed position on his back.

"It is," Wing agreed with a happy trill as he snuggled tightly against Drift's side while they shared Windswept on their laps. "Are you going to retire from the Autobots?"

Both of the Autobots nodded. "We are. Doing that is the one thing we'd have to go back to Cybertron for. Then they'll probably never see us again."

"Will you hand in my resignation while you're there?" Drift asked. "I wasn't expecting to stay."

"Will do." Titanium nodded. "And if Prowl starts sputtering, this time we'll be able to tell him just where he can shove his orders without ending up in the brig."

Dai Atlas almost snorted energon through his vents at that.

"You _have_ mellowed," the black triple changer laughed. "When did _that_ start stopping you?"

"Since the inside of the brig turned an optic-searing orange," GoldenRod snorted. "Staring at that color does weird things to your processor. Besides, Prowl has no sense of humor."

"Goldie's been in there just as much as I have, though in his case it was for getting into prank wars with the Lamborghini twins," Titanium added. "And there was the glitter trap in Prowl's office right before some big important function he had to attend."

Drift groaned and face palmed. "You have a death wish, mech? Even _I_ know better than to piss off the Praxian cop."

"He did it right before we were leaving the planet, and we avoided Prowl for nearly a century after that particular stunt," the purple and silver mech replied.

"Totally worth it," GoldenRod snickered. "He was shedding glitter for a decaorn."

Dai Atlas finally managed to finish clearing the energon from his vents. "I hope you're not going to be pulling stunts like that here." He narrowed his optics at the gold mech.

GoldenRod shook his helm. "The Lambos started the pranks wars, usually by stealing my painting supplies for their own pranks. Prowl was... more along the lines of collateral. I'd expected him to be dragging the twins into his office, not letting them off with a warning."

Wing giggled. "You're doomed, creator."

"I had better not be collateral," Drift growled at his mate.

"Aww..."

"Or you won't be getting," Drift finished, drawing a squawk of protest from Wing and a low chuckle from Dai Atlas.

"Seems he's learned your weakness," the blue and white giant smirked at the pouting form of his creation.

Titanium poked his own mate. "Limited flight ability aside, you're still a groundframe, so you don't have the 'go up' option to get away from Drift if he does get caught in the crossfire. And if he catches you, I will just point and laugh."

GoldenRod pouted at him and Drift gave him a vicious grin that promised much pain if need be.

The big triple changer laughed, then looked over at Wing, optics sparkling. "We don't need to prank Atlas. I've got enough material on him to make sure no one will be able to take him seriously for the next century or so."

The Circle of Light leader glowered at his old friend. Titanium only gave him a cheeky grin in response.

"I'm sure," Wing purred, his wings twitching playfully. "I know Axe has enough material where I embarrassed Dai Atlas as a sparkling to keep you grounded from laughing at least as long."

"Like when you crawled up his leg while he was trying to be the serious order leader?" Drift chuckled softly.

Both Autobots looked from Wing to Dai Atlas, then burst out laughing. The blue Knight glowered at the two of them, though they were completely unfazed by the glare.

"It's a proven fact that no one can be taken seriously when they're being used as a jungle gym by a sparkling," Titanium snickered.

"It's true," Drift smirked. "I don't even have sparkling recognition protocols and I thought it was funny."

Axe's blue optics snapped to Drift, startled by the admittance that came with no shame.

"I can just imagine the hidden smirks and smothered snickering he must have been getting," GoldenRod snickered.

"It was adorable," Axe agreed. "He was the cutest sparkling."

"And one of the most difficult to raise," Dai Atlas grumbled. "He _still_ doesn't know how to take orders."

Titanium snorted. "Half the warriors who served under you couldn't take orders without going through a screaming match or being threatened with cleaning the sewers using an armor brush. Why should your sparkling be any different?"

Dai Atlas growled, but Axe laughed.

"What do you expect from mecha trained to be fiercely independent and loyal?" Axe grinned at his mate. "It worked through. The ones who listened over their screaming _survived_."

"Come on Drift, you're falling into recharge," Windswept suddenly said quietly, nuzzling his mate and urging the grounder to get up.

Titanium snorted. "Even I've told Atlas to shove his orders into various bodily orifices. Though I usually saved it for when he was really in a snit."

GoldenRod tilted his helm, regarding Drift. "Get him to his berth before you have to recruit someone to carry him."

"Initiate training is a tiring process," Wing crooned sympathetically as he helped Windswept pull Drift to his pedes. "I'll be back when they're settled in. Won't be long." A distinct note of disappointment was in his voice.

"I think I have enough energy to make you _late_ coming back," Drift rumbled, taking the tone as a challenge to his ability to satisfy his mate.

"You need your recharge," Windswept said more firmly than anyone was used to him speaking. "I'll entertain Wing if he really needs it," he added as they tugged an unresisting Drift towards the door.

Titanium chuckled, shaking his helm. "An interesting trio, those three. You've really got your hands full with them, Atlas my friend."

"Don't I know it," the leader of the Circle of Light smiled slightly, something the younger mecha didn't see as the door closed.


	32. Skydancing Dreams

"Wing, may I ask you something?"

The tone phrasing the small mech instantly caught Wing's attention, golden optics focusing on Windswept. "Of course."

"I made it out to the gardens today." The crystal one that Wing had taken them to on their first official courting date had become a favorite of Windswept's, and on good days the small mech sometimes found the courage to go there alone. "When I was there I heard some mecha talking about an upcoming performance. Is there really a professional skydance team?"

"Yes, there is," Wing nodded, almost cautiously. "They're called The Crystal Sky Acrobatic Team."

Catching Wing's reaction, subtle as it was, put Windswept on guard for his next question. "How difficult is it to see one of their performances?"

"Just look up," Wing twitched a wing. It was a subtle movement, but one that marked significant discomfort. "The roof of the main tower has a good view and there is always space for a resident of the Citadel. If you want to be in the middle of the action, well, that's the roof of the central library. That is _hard_ to get tickets for."

The blue mech's optics brightened at that, excitement creeping back into his voice. "I just want to be able to _watch_ , from anywhere. There were saying the at the library was the best place, but if the Citadel will work just as well..."

His wings quivered as he considered the dates he'd heard mentioned.

"You can watch easily from our main tower roof," Wing promised. "It's always a good view, even if it's not in the middle of things." He paused, checking on things he didn't think about any longer. "I believe they perform once a vorn or so."

"Is it as good as they made it sound?" Windswept asked, trying to picture in his processor what that kind of flying must look like. He had seen Wing skydance, had danced with him a little, even, and he has seen some of the Knights practice precision and formation flying for training.

But watching someone fly with the intent of making it into art was something he'd never seen.

"Likely better," Wing managed a smile for his mate's excitement. Windswept wanted so little for himself, he _had_ to encourage it. "This is their _function_. Fancy flying is all they do."

Windswept sent him the time and the date he'd overheard. "Will you be able to watch with me?"

There was that twitch of wings again before Wing nodded. "I can."

"You don't have to, if you had other plans. I'm fine on the roof." Windswept told him, settling down from his initial excitement at the prospect of seeing the performance. The jet's obvious reluctance was strong enough for him to pick up on after all the time they'd spent together.

He'd only been hoping to spend more time with Wing, something he enjoyed immensely, and selfishly hoping to have someone to answer questions about what going on that liked being in the air as much as Windswept did.

"I ... I don't have plans," Wing admitted, his wings folded tightly against his back. "I just ... it hurts to watch them sometimes."

Windswept's frame was pressed against his in an instant, field reaching out in apology even if he didn't understand why it distressed Wing. "I'll go by myself. The roof is safe."

"It is," Wing agreed, thanks in his field as he relaxed and nuzzled his mate softly. "If you'd like company, Thorn always watches and he doesn't have anyone to watch with."

"I'll ask him." Windswept replied, snuggling against Wing. And maybe the black mech would tell him why watching upset Wing so much.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate having company that loves the show as much as he does," Wing smiled and kissed his forehelm. "I know you're going to love it."

Windswept relaxed, letting the subject drop as he reached out to stroke the white jet's wings, knowing just the right way to melt Wing into a pile of relaxed, purring mech.

That ... Wing on his front on the couch with his helm in Windswept's lap and wings completely lax to the soft petting of the blue mech ... was what Drift walked into his home to. Instantly all the frustrations of the day melted away to a warm, amused smile.

"You are very good at doing that to both of us," Drift chuckled as he motioned Windswept to stay where he was. "Have you refueled yet?"

"No." Windswept smiled in return, tone soft and teasing. "I started earlier and haven't been allowed to move since."

Drift chuckled again and went to pour three cubes. "Are you on jet or grounder grade?"

"Grounder." He hadn't been flying that day, so his flight tanks were still full and content. "I walked to the park earlier. By myself." He added, smiling down at the jet still melted in his lap.

"Good," Drift smiled, pleased with his mate's progress as he came over to sit on Windswept's free side. He offered a cube of grounder grade to the blue triple changer and smiled at the lax form of their white mate. "He does the strutless thing very well," he chuckled as he worked on his cube. "Anything else interesting happen today?"

Windswept sipped at his own cube before agreeing, prodding gently at Wing and amused at how the white jet didn't seem to care that they were discussing him like he wasn't laying in Windswept's lap. "Very well. When I was in the garden I heard about a skydance performance that is coming up. I think I am going to ask Thorn if he would like to watch from the Citadel roof with me."

"It'll probably be quite a performance," Drift agreed in the way people did when they had no clue what was being talked about but wanted to be encouraging.

"I'm looking forward to it." Windswept nodded, shifting on the couch so that he was touching more of his mate but still able to reach Wing. "How was your day?"

"Long," Drift chuckled easily and relaxed into the light contact and simple warmth of having his mates with him. "They're still drilling me in silly katas and three times the chore load. I get the feeling it was designed for mecha that aren't used to hard work or menial labor."

"'zined to make sure everybody has the same experience," Wing mumbled, stretching lazily and nudging his wing under Windswept's hand for the petting to continue. "Early on, most mecha weren't common laborers."

"At least you're still learning, even if it is boring." Windswept concluded, a small smile of amusement on his lips as he obediently began stroking the insistent wing again, reaching out with his other hand to mirror the motions on the jet's other wing.

Wing shivered and moaned softly before going motionless, his field so full of contented pleasure it even bled into Drift.

"I'm just looking forward to the insane joors being over with," Drift sighed with another drink. "I've paid my dues too many times to do it again."

"Since we're here to stay, hopefully you won't have to." Windswept reflected, momentarily neglecting a wing to consume some more of his energon.

"Hey lazy, drink," Drift nudged Wing's nasal ridge with the jet-grade fuel.

A discontent sound came from the white jet, but he shifted slightly and brought one hand up to take the cube and work on drinking it while moving as little as possible.

Windswept laughed at the jet's protest, taking advantage of the distraction to finish his own energon. "Finish your energon and when Drift is done we can head to bed. I'll rub some more there."

A happy sound and sudden interest in the energon by Wing made both his mates laugh. It also gave Drift time to finish his much-needed cube.

"He really is adorable when he's like this," Drift chuckled and leaned to kiss Windswept softly. 

"You're even more so," Wing countered with a wiggle of his wings.

Windswept purred in agreement, amused by his mates bantering even as he melted against Drift, blue wing shifting back to allow him to lean more contact. They all enjoyed the contact for a few more kliks as their energon settled, then Drift nudged Windswept to get up so he could go to the berth and recharge. Wing grumbled but wasn't far behind, looking forward to snuggling with his mates and taking Windswept up on his offer.


	33. Healing Hurts

Windswept shifted, settling his wings more comfortably and glancing over to check on his companion. Thorn had readily agreed to watch the show with Windswept, and had pointed the blue mech to the best place on the roof to observe, especially for a first time. He had a little more idea of what he was going to see since speaking to Thorn too, the Knight having watched many past performances and described some of his favorite moments in detail.

"Excited?" Thorn grinned over at his companion, his black vained golden wings fluttering in anticipation.

"Very much. I've watched Wing dance and do some stunts, I can't imagine what an entire team of mecha performing is going to look like." Windswept told him. "And the fact that some of it is done to _music_..."

"It is amazing," Thorn agreed. "I'm glad Wing's issues didn't stop you from coming."

Windswept's answer paused when he caught sight of a familiar white form coming onto the fairly crowded roof, flanked by two unmistakable giants.

Drift stepped on to the roof, Dai Atlas and Axe right on his heels, and Windswept's wings twitched higher, distracted from his first question. "Is this actually part of his training?"

Thorn glanced over his shoulder. "For him, yes," he chuckled. "He needs to grasp an appreciation for flight."

Drift's expression, at least to Windswept, displayed the white grounder's confusion at being here, and his disinterest in general at the subject as he joined his mate and Thorn.

Windswept's field reached out in welcome to his mate as Drift settled down next to him. "It's not going to be that bad."

"I'm not expecting it to be bad," Drift said quickly. "Just ... not much point to watching."

"You don't seem to have a problem watching Wing and me when we fly." Windswept teased him, blue wing stretching out to brush against Drift.

It was a habit he'd picked up from Wing, most likely the first of many.

"I watch you and Wing on the ground to," Drift pointed out and reached up to absently stroke the wing. He might not care about the show, but he liked spending time with his mate. "Where's Wing?"

"He didn't want to watch the performance with me." Windswept explained quietly. Wing's distress when Windswept had asked him was something that still bothered him a little.

Whatever else he might have been going to add was caught off by the first rumble of over a score of highly powerful engines taking off in the distance.

Drift, while he cared little for the performance, respected his mate's fascination with it by keeping his questions for later. It wasn't like Wing to decline _anything_ that would allow him to spend time with their blue mate.

Still, even he was impressed by sheer power of the first flyover as a score of jets raced overhead in tight formation, their wingtips nearly touching as their engines making the very air around the spectators vibrate. It didn't take him more than a nanoklik to realize that every one of the twenty-two mecha in alt mode were of the exact same frame type, and it was one they shared with Wing.

Beside him Windswept shuddered, pulling his wings in closer with a flare of surprise as the new sensory input struck them. Surprise that had faded by the time the formation had circled around and the blue mech was focused on how tightly they turned and moved as a group before splitting off into three groups to shoot towards the far edges of the city, then straight up ... backwards.

"Wing can fly like that?" Drift barely breathed the question.

"If he wants to," Thorn nodded. "He has the frame and engine for it."

"Can. Showed me once, when we were out in the desert." Windswept murmured, clearly distracted and only half following the conversation as the formations wove around each other loosely, clearly still in the warming up portion of the show from what Windswept had heard.

They broke again, this time into four groups as they splintered off to run individual stunts above the helms of their audience, the team spread out to give the entire city a show. Windswept was captivated at the flips and turns, the skill with which a mech stuttered his movements in the sky without falling, before racing back to center to regroup as a whole.

"Why did he ... flight practice?" Drift asked.

Windswept hummed and nodded, leaning against Drift as the air went quite except for the comments of the spectators over the first section of the performance. The blue mech was busy reviewing the moves and coordination he had just seen. On a level he knew that they were all possible, but actually seeing them performed was amazing. To know his mate was capable of it was processor blowing to contemplate.

Drift hummed softly, happy to wrap his arms around his mate and have Windswept so happy. The incredible displays of aerial command was more unsettling to him than enchanting. All he could see was the kind of command they would have on a battlefield, even with only light weapons.

Music started, coordinated to play from various systems around the city on cue and heralding in the next section of the show.

If the first had been a display of concentrated power in force, than this was a focus of grace and skill as performers wove around each other in complicated patterns, often so close the spectators couldn't be sure they weren't actually touching.

More amazing still was the fact that all of it was timed down to the fraction of a nanoklik to follow the flow of the music around them, awakening a whole new level of wonder in Windswept that blue mech made no effort to hide as his entire frame quivered.

It was enough to make Drift smile and relax. He still wasn't sure what to make of the display as jets twisted and jinked, spun and spiraled around each other and the buildings.

If _either_ side he'd fought for had this kind of command in the air, this level of skill in their fliers, the war would have been over in the first few dozen vorns. There was nothing that could touch what he was watching, and they knew it.

It was only when the music faded away and the performers vanished that Windswept came back to himself, stilling a twitch of his wings before it upset Drift's comfortable posture.

"That was amazing. Do they take time off, or does it take them most of the vorn between performances practicing to master a new routine?"

"This team is pro. It's all they do, every day," Thorn said easily, still coming back to himself.

"Do they do their own choreography, or is there someone who designs it for them?" Windswept wondered after he considered that, contemplating the idea of being in the air everyday.

Thorn hummed, then flicked his wings in a shrug of not knowing.

"I believe they have at least one choreographer and a music writer," Dai Atlas spoke from nearby. "All the music is created for each show as well."

"Mmm." Windswept hummed again, remembering to thank the large mech before settling down again next to Drift, helm resting against the white mech and field still bright with an edge of wonder.

"Come Drift. It's time to go back to your katas," Dai Atlas interrupted the snuggling.

The white grounder gave a dramatic sigh. "Sorry, the master calls," he said before kissing Windswept deeply and passionately, pulling away when the blue mech was revved up and panting through his vents.

Windswept sank back down as Drift pulled away, biting down on the whine that threatened to escape at the loss of the contact, even though the quivering of his wings accented how hard his vents were working trying to cool him.

Thorn quirked a black-vained golden wing as Drift pulled away. "Leaving him for me?"

"Only if he wants you," Drift smirked before obediently leaving with his Daoshi.

Windswept watched his mate leave, all the while working hard to get himself back under control.

A curious silver hand reached out to touch Windswept's shoulder, the field attached to it questioning and lightly aroused.

Blue optics focused on Thorn, Windswept quivering under the hand as he apologized. "Sorry."

"It's okay," the black Knight said easily, his field reinforcing the statement before he withdrew his hand. "Care for some energon while you calm down?"

"Please." Windswept sighed, the shaking receding as his systems cooled and settled slowly. "Drift would do that." He added, amused and slightly exasperated by his mate.

"Wing will and worse once he's sure you won't hit him for it," Thorn chuckled and guided the blue mech towards the door. "He's still such a sparkling at spark."

"Tease me and leave?" Windswept sighed, wings twitching and settling as he looked over his shoulder one last time, scanning the now empty sky.

"He's been known to," Thorn ruffled his wings. "Though mostly it's to get you to chase him."

"Hm. I bet if I wait long enough he'd chase me down first." Windswept commented as they made their way down. "Where are we going?"

"Unless he runs into Drift first," Thorn laughed playfully. "I was thinking my quarters, but we can go to the common room if you prefer."

"Your quarters are fine." Windswept replied, trusting. Thorn had been one of his first friends in the Citadel, and one of the few mechs he actually trusted besides his mates and Wing's creators. Thorn had always been good to him, understanding and respectful as well as supportive.

"Did you really ask Wing to watch the show?" Thorn asked as they entered the lift.

"Yes." Windswept's wings tucked tight, the memory bringing up the stress once more as he offered a broken explination. "He said he would ... but I could tell he didn't want to ... suggested that maybe you would be willing to watch with me. He said you liked them..."

Windswept would have thought that the jet would have liked something like the performance. He shared a frame type with the performers, had performed many of the same stunts for Windswept when the blue mech had asked, and seemed to enjoying showing off.

"I do," Thorn brushed his field against Windswept's in gentle support. "It's just been a _long_ time since there was anyone who didn't know about Wing's issues with the show. It was an enormous deal when it happened."

"What?" Windswept stared at him, confused. "Issues? What happened?"

"He tried to make the team, before he became a Knight Initiate," Thorn said quietly. "He wanted it _bad_. More than he ever wanted a Great Sword. He only became a Knight because he wasn't good enough to fly with them."

"Wasn't good enough?" Windswept repeated, disbelieving. He had seen Wing fly. The white jet could do everything that Windswept had seen in the show. Everything and more.

Thorn nodded. "He was a long time recovering from that rejection. First one in his life." He paused. "Hit him about as hard as I think it would have hit you if Drift had rejected you when you first met."

"He almost stopped functioning?" Windswept asked softly, struggling with the revelation and the source of Wing's pain.

A low hum and Thorn shook his helm. "Maybe not quite that bad, but he had his creators and all of the Citadel supporting him. If he'd been alone ... it wouldn't have surprised me."

"This was the first time?" Windswept asked, trying to create a timeline in his processor.

"Yes," Thorn nodded as they left the lift and walked towards the black jet's quarters. "Wing is unusually stable for a jet, but he's even more intense."

"And he hasn't had anything to do with it since." Windswept said softly, very aware of how intensely the jet _felt_ everything.

"Not if he can help it," Thorn nodded. "I think it might be the only thing he hasn't really faced yet."

Windswept was silent for a while, working through an internal struggle even if the outcome was inevitable.

He had fallen today. The grace and precision of the skydancers had captured the attention of his artistic side. When it had been put to music all he could think about was how he wanted to learn how it was done and try it himself. To be able to create something like that.

"I won't bring it up again." He murmured softly.

He could never do anything to hurt Wing intentionally. He had already seen how the mere mention had stirred up old pain. Nothing Windswept could want was worth his mate's discomfort.

"Not around Wing, maybe, but that doesn't mean you have to abandon your interest," Thorn said gently as he palmed his door open.

Windswept just shook his helm in denial. If it wasn't something he could share with his mates in some form than it wasn't worth his time. He would ... he would find something else.

Thorn hummed and considered him as he waved Windswept to make himself comfortable. "What part of all that did you really want to be part of?"

"Part of what?" Windswept asked, accepting the seat the Thorn motioned him towards as he the dark jet retrieved energon for them both.

"The show," The black Knight explained easily as he poured two cubes of jet grade. "There are many aspects to it. Which caught your attention enough to want to do?"

"The music. The choreography. The creating." Windswept confessed. Not that he hadn't enjoyed watching, but this was the first time that he had found art that he was driven to want to be able to create himself.

Thorn hummed and handed a cube over before taking a seat across from his companion. "There are plenty of opportunities to write skydancing music and design displays if you don't mind working for a less prestigious unit. Everything from courting dances to graduation displays and even lesser teams. It's just The Crystal Sky Acrobatic Team that Wing can't deal with."

The energon was tasted, Windswept purring in appreciation as it slid down his intake and settled, settling him more. "Just the team?"

"They're the one that rejected him," Thorn shrugged a wing. "I've never seen him go to watch any other teams, but he doesn't avoid them either, and as you've seen, he still performs small routines. The drive to skydance is very much still in his spark."

"I'll see." Windswept finally concluded. If Wing wouldn't be bothered by him doing it on a small scale, might actually even approve of and encourage it, well... Windswept didn't care _who_ it was created for, provided he could create at all, so long as the work was appreciated.

"Good," Thorn relaxed back and sipped his energon. "Have you ever tried to compose music before?"

"Just a little, from what I was able to teach myself. The style of the City is different too." He could find the Cybertronian roots in it easily enough, but it, like so many other things, had shifted away from what it once was.

"Every city had its own style, back in the orn," Thorn nodded. "Some even had several. I know there are samples in the archives, preserved because that's what we came here to do, but what's popular is what is played."

"As it is everywhere." Windswept agreed, thinking quietly. He would have to see what he could do about finding some of the archived music so he could compare the now to the then.

"So the first step would be finding someone who..." His voice trailed off as he realized that he was already planning something when he wasn't even sure if he was going to be able to go through with it. Not without first knowing how Wing felt.

"Someone to?" Thorn prodded gently.

"Teach me how." Windswept finished softly, wings twitching in mild distress.

"Ah. It shouldn't be difficult. Classes are offered regularly for the basics," Thorn said, watching the blue wings twitch. "What's bothering you?"

"Wing." Windswept admitted. "I'll have to see what he thinks first."

Thorn hummed his understanding. "Why don't you go to Wing now? He's likely in training room three. It's largely soundproofed."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt him. It can wait until tonight. Wing recharges with us more often than he does his own quarters any more." Windswept protested.

"He won't mind," Thorn said smoothly. "I know for a fact he's just distracting himself until the show's over."

Windswept brightened a little at that, standing and stretching his wings before settling them. "Thank you. For everything."

"You are welcome," Thorn flicked his wings and smiled at his friend as he stood to show the young jet out.

Windswept made his quickly through the familiar halls of the Citadel, easily finding the training room that Thorn had pointed him towards. Noting the light on the door marking it as occupied he pinged it for admittance, waiting patiently.

Within a klik the door slid open and Windswept was treated to the extremely rare sight of the white jet standing with his Great Sword drawn, but set tip down as he stood at ease.

"Hello," Wing smiled brightly, his entire demeanor shifting from studiously neutral to warm. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes." The blue mech answered honestly, daring to step inside and looking around at the welcome that was offered.

Wing twitched his wings in approval and sheathed Dreamer is the Dream before walking up to Windswept and drawing him into a warm embrace and soft kiss. "Good," he purred softly, pleased his mate had enjoyed himself.

"Thorn was excellent company, and your creators drug Drift up there to watch as well." Windswept told him as he leaned against mate, happy to be in the white jet's arms and calm since Wing was. "It was amazing...the music, the timing..."

"There is nothing like it," Wing said knowingly, only a touch of sadness infecting his field.

Windswept snuggled against him, love and adoration offered in answer to the sadness now that the source was understood. Gathering his courage he looked up at Wing. "I'd like to learn how to do that- compose the music and choreograph the moves to it."

"On what level?" Wing tensed, afraid his mate was setting himself up for the same grief Wing had.

"For me, and anyone else who would appreciate it." Soft blue optics looked up at Wing, afraid of his mate's reaction but hopeful. It was hope that increased when Wing relaxed significantly and kissed him on the forehelm.

"You'll have time to learn once I clear you from flight training," Wing promised. "Within the vorn, I expect."

Joy met his statement, Windswept kissing him as the blue mech's field flared excitedly. "Still going to want to go flying _with_ you."

"Always," Wing smiled and kissed him back. "We'll always go flying. I'll always teach you."

The fear was gone, melting away in the light that was Wing as Windswept snuggled against the white jet. He had Wing's approval, and his promise, peaceful contentment flowing through him. In that contentment he felt the rising desires in his mate, the shifting nature of the touch from black hands and soft white lip plates.

Windswept smiled, hands reaching up to trace along folded white wings as he caught his mate's lips in a gentle kiss, offering and willing. The flare of desire from Wing turned into a roar and the white jet moaned against his lover's mouth.

When his fans kicked up, slightly glazed golden optics seemed to focus and he pulled back. "Quarters. Berth." He panted, grabbing Windswept's hand and pulling him towards the door as his turbines revved for takeoff. He found little resistance in the little blue triple changer as he pulled him through the halls, the one mech they encountered along the way taking a single look at them and stepping aside to allow them to zip pass.

Wing's landing was smooth, Windswept's less so, though the way he ended up wrapped in Wing's arms and his mouth ravished as the white jet stepped backwards into their quarters made him hardly care.

His entire focus was on Wing, on the glossa exploring his mouth and the warm frame against his own, following the white jet's lead as his hands crept up to stroke over the other's wings again. He could feel the subtle need, invisible if Windswept wasn't so familiar with it from Drift. Only what the grounder all but reveled in, the jet tried to reject.

A low moan escaped Wing as he fell onto the berth, pulling Windswept down on top of him.

The blue mech was the picture of willing submission, his neck bared to the aggressive nips and soothing kisses as he ground his frame against Wing's, whimpering softly as his field flared with desire to be under Wing, to be taken and filled by his mate, a mech he trusted.

He willingly helped them roll over, spreading his legs and bringing his knees up to rub against Wing's hips. Just that was enough to draw a need filled cry from the white jet as his spike cover slid open, allowing his spike to extend and pressurize into the waiting valve, drawing moans of pleasure from both mechs, Windswept's optics going dark as he simply felt.

This was what he needed, he craved so often. To be at the mercy of the mates he trusted with all of his spark, to be able to fill their needs and his own. To be held and claimed, marked as someone who was wanted and jealously guarded.

Above him Wing moaned again, trembling as he absorbed the desires flowing so openly from the blue mech. Then he surrendered to his own needs in the name of fulfilling the honest desires of his lover. He dug one knee into the berth, braced his hands on either side of Windswept's helm and locked the smaller mech in place between his thrusting hips and strong forearms.

Cries of pleasure mixed with pleading calls of Wing's designation between shared kisses as the blue mech begged for more.

Blue hands swept up Wing's sides before focusing on the white wings spread above them, his mate's pleasure not forgotten in the midst of his own. Windswept loved it when the white jet displayed for him, the visual of spread wings driving his charge all the more.

"Beautiful," Wing moaned, shuddering in pleasure as he drove his hips against Windswept's. "Mine," he continued, nipping at the bared neck before him before finding Windswept's mouth again. " _Ours_."

His mate moaned into the kiss, blue hips rolling up to meet each thrust.

Theirs. Drift's and Wing's. It was everything Windswept dreamed of, everything he desired.

It was bliss far beyond the physical pleasure.

Shuddering, Wing unlocked his chest plates.

"Spark," he moaned, trembling in his desire.

Blue optics flared in fear that focused Windswept through the pleasure that echoed through every centimeter of his frame. "Hurts." He whimpered, than even deeper than the memory of the pain was shame. "Dirty."

That was enough to snap Wing into the present and full awareness of who his partner was. His hips stilled as he stared at his lover in shock. "It's beautiful, clean ... intimate," he promised, kissing Windswept gently. "I would never hurt you. Never."

That Wing would never hurt him was a fact Windswept believed without question. Nor was there any doubt in his processor that Wing's spark was anything less than perfect. 

It was the condition of his own that he doubted.

"My sparks...dirty. They..." A shiver ran through him. Everything else could be- had been- cleaned, repaired, reclaimed.

But not that. No matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise, surely...

"Your spark is mine," Wing rumbled, phrasing the emotion in a very different way than he did with Drift. "It is no less perfect than Drift's."

Windswept looked up at the white jet and saw the possessive conviction in Wing's optics.

Wing wanted him. Wanted his spark, even knowing what had happened.

The smaller mech trembled, afraid, but over that could still be heard the soft click of his chestplates unlocking.

And his complete trust in Wing.

Brilliant golden light flooded the space between as Wing's chest plates slid out of the way to expose the brilliant, pulsing sphere of pure energy that was Wing's life-force. The white jet gave his lover a solid moment to take in what was being offered.

 _Wonder-awe_ lit Windswept's field, a blue hand sliding down Wing's shoulder to hover near the pure light.

Much more slowly blue plating slid back, exposing the Windswept's own spark for Wing's inspection. Blue light reflected Wing's armor, a soft sky blue.

"Beautiful," Wing whispered in awe, bring one hand up to caress a fingertip along the rim of the spark chamber. "It will be so incredible touched with gold and red."

Windswept shivered at the touch, the pleasure at odds with the pain his memory from the last time someone had been this close to his spark.

"Yours." He offered, unsure.

Wing smiled brightly yet gently, shifting to brace himself with both hands before shifting back to lower his helm, offering a kiss to the light blue corona. The dance of spark energy over his face place dragged a ragged moan of pure bliss from him before, trembling, he repositioned himself so their coronas just barely brushed.

Windswept gasped at the first light touch of Wing's spark on his own- pure, warm, and bright. Welcoming his spark and gently brushing away the lingering fear and doubt. There was pleasure, but it was all but secondary to the pure emotional bliss that being so close to Wing's love, desire and acceptance of him caused.

Here, there was no lying, no withholding, as Wing exposed himself fully to the young mech.

The response he received was everything he had been looking for and more as Windswept quickly lost himself in the sharing that was deeper than anything he had ever felt.

Devotion and love for Wing and Drift. Wing's true affection for the blue mech in his arms, beyond all doubt. Desires, needs, passions ... even pains ... flowed freely, unjudged, welcomed, soothed and embraced.

~Mine,~ Wing moaned, his entire frame trembling as the sharing deepened, neither mech desiring to hold anything back from the other.

~Yours,~ Windswept answered. ~Mine?~ Was the hopeful flicker on the heels of the offering, spark surging deeper, reaching out in offering and desire, unchecked.

~Yours, always,~ Wing responded without hesitation, without even thinking about it. With a keen of bliss his spark plunged the pale blue one until they were a single orb of pale bright green.

Windswept found himself caught in a storm of emotion and bliss without fear. There was no distinguishing between what he was feeling and what Wing was feeling any more, and he didn't care.

A keen escaped him, deafening if either had been in a state to hear it as his spark melted into Wing's, the combined light pulsing brighter than either spark could alone.

Not alone. Loved. Treasured. Wanted. And knowing it with an unshakeable sureness as conscious thought fled. Only bliss, physical and emotional, remained.

Both mechs sank down, tension fled along with consciousness. Only the automatic systems remained to shift them enough to close spark chambers and chest armor.

Wing came back to awareness quickly, his optics dim but seeing. With a tender smile he shifted to snuggle more easily and give Drift an open space on the berth when he returned.


	34. Gestalt Inbound

Titanium and GoldenRod had made the long journey back to Cybertron to deliver their resignations, as well as Drift's. There had been a lot of protesting at the loss of three of the most successful roaming hunters, but Titanium had very flatly informed everyone that he, his mate, and Drift were leaving the ranks permanently. The primary thing that had hushed protests was when he promised they were not defecting and were very unlikely to fight Autobot forces. All three were simply done with roaming and with fighting.

The Aerialbots had been on Cybertron when the big triple's ship had arrived, and as expected, he'd been swarmed. The gestalt interrogated every mech coming in from the outer reaches, asking if anyone had seen their missing sparkling. This time Titanium was able to answer in the affirmative, though he'd been deliberately very vague as to where he had come across Wing. It had taken him a good joor to extricate himself from the Aerialbot swarm, managing to make his escape in the direction of the command offices.

He'd seen the Aerials off and on during the rest of the brief stay on Cybertron, but they had been conspicuously absent when the bonded pair had left again for the return trip to New Crystal City. A good two-thirds of the way into the trip, GoldenRod stumbled onto Fireflight lurking in the crevices of the ship, quickly rounding up the rest of the five. Somehow the gestalt had snuck aboard and hid in the cargo bays and the maintenance passages, spending most of the time in stasis to avoid detection. By the time they were discovered, it was too late to simply turn around. There weren't enough supplies aboard for seven mechs to return to Cybertron, or even two.

The first thing Titanium did was lock them out of the ship's computer, hiding the coordinates of New Crystal City behind as many firewalls and locks as he could. Then he proceeded to confiscate every weapon and weapon powerpack the five Aerialbots were carrying, keeping them under lock and key and a very nasty booby trap for hackers. Then GoldenRod went into the surprisingly compliant mecha's systems and disabled what weapons systems they couldn't remove. There was no way he was going to let them anywhere near the city armed. They were still a gestalt, but a Great Sword could take a gestalt out.

At least Titanium hoped one could.

Dai Atlas was not going to be happy when he found out about this....

"Is all this truly necessary?" Silverbolt asked even as he submitted without struggle to GoldenRod's meddling.

"Yes," Titanium informed them, glowering at the group. "Where we're going, weapons are not permitted. I'm not letting you anywhere near the place armed with even a rubber band and a pebble." Red optics flashed at Slingshot, who sneered at him but submitted, albeit grumpily and under protest, to having his weapons disabled.

"How has this place survived unarmed?" Skydive asked.

"By staying completely off the radar," GoldenRod replied, finishing with Slingshot and moving on to the fidgeting Air Raid. "No one knows where they are. And that is going to include you five."

"But our sparkling is there, right?" Fireflight focused on the only thing he cared about.

Titanium nodded. "He is." He leaned forward, hiking his wings up as high as they could go. "Even _think_ about revealing this place and you'll be putting him in danger. And you don't want that, do you?"

There was some sullen grumbling, but all five agreed that, no, they did not want to put their sparkling in danger.

"Done." GoldenRod eyed the five, making sure he'd gotten all of the integrated weapons.

"So how much longer until we're there?" Fireflight was nearly bouncing in excitement. "Has he grown up a good mech? Is he a sparkbreaker?"

"We'll be within hailing distance any joor now," GoldenRod replied, putting his tools away. "When we do make contact, I suspect you'll be able to hear the yelling all the way down here. Yes, Wing is a good mech. As for the rest..." He gave the five a look that clearly sing-songed "I know something you don't".

Slingshot eyed the gold mech. "And just what is that look supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"You'll see when we get there," Titanium replied. He headed for the door. "I'll be in the cockpit."

"Which means I'm making sure you lot don't go anywhere," GoldenRod fixed them with a glare. He wasn't nearly as good as his mate, but he'd picked up a thing or two.

"So tell us about Wing's new function," Fireflight remained fixated.

"He's one of the members of the force that defends where we're going," the gold mech replied, leaning against the wall where he could see all five members of the gestalt. "He looks quite different than he did when he left you. Just wait till we introduce you to certain other residents of the place _before_ you pounce on him, unless you want to launch yourself right onto a swordblade."

"Seriously?" Slingshot looked at him incredulously.

"They use swords?" Skydive cocked his helm.

"He's our sparkling!" Fireflight objected, his wings fluttering in distress. "We'd never hurt him!"

"They use swords, and they are very, very good." GoldenRod pinned all five with a look. "You've seen Drift sparring, and where we're going, the swordsmechs are even better. So don't get any funny ideas."

There were a couple of rebellious looks and some muttering, mostly derisive, about swords as weapons.

"We'll behave," Silverbolt spoke up, generating more than the usual amount of twitching as he reinforced the statement along the gestalt bond. "We just want to see our sparkling, even if he's not a sparkling anymore."

Titanium walked into the cockpit of the ship, dropping into the pilot's seat with a groan. For a long moment he just slumped in the seat, staring at the console, before cycling his vents heavily and reaching for the comm unit. "Titanium to New Crystal City. Atlas? You on duty this orn?"

"Not exactly the tone I expected to hear from you," Dai Atlas sounded wary. "What's on your vapors?"

"We've handed in our resignations... But, unfortunately... We've got stowaways." Titanium winced as he admitted that, his wings pulling closer to his back.

"Still functioning?" the glower was painfully clear in the blue mech's voice, but the cant of wide blue and white wings spoke volumes that the answer had damn well better be 'no'.

"The Aerialbots. All five of them." Titanium turned down the volume on the comm line. "Best I can tell, they put themselves into stasis for most of the trip to avoid detection. Or I would've kicked them off before we got too far from Cybertron."

"Then put them back in stasis and we'll give you enough supplies to drop them someplace far away," Dai Atlas' tone was an order.

"They're damned and determined that they're going to see Wing. That's why they sneaked aboard in the first place." Titanium pulled his wings even closer. "We've had them locked out of the computer, so they have no idea where we are, and their weapons have either been confiscated or disabled."

"If they land conscious, they won't be leaving," Dai Atlas insisted. "Functioning or otherwise."

The purple and silver triple vented again. "We'll put them in stasis for the landing, but I can pretty much guarantee they won't be leaving until they've had a chance to see Wing. Fireflight's been interrogating both of us since his 'ooh, shiny' reflexes kicked in, which is how we caught them in the first place. The Aerialbots singly I can handle without much of a problem. Superion, though..."

"Can be dealt with if they wish to challenge us," Dai Atlas rumbled, his ruby optics going dark with anger. "Wing will be allowed to decide if he wishes to see them, and where."

"True." The ex-Autobot checked his screens. "Three joors to the gravity well." His own red optics went briefly out of focus as he communed with GoldenRod. "Stasis will commence within the joor."

"Very well. I will deal with informing Wing," Dai Atlas said before the comm cut. Every Knight in the room went deathly still, not one of them wishing to draw attention to themselves as their leader stalked away, promising much pain and doom to the next thing that crossed him. ::Wing!:: he roared over a highly encrypted comm.

The white jet's startled jump and the sound of something being dropped echoed down the comm line. ::Creator?:: Wing squeaked, _what have I done now?_ flicking briefly through his processor.

~Love?~ Axe couldn't hold back his concern any more.

~Aerialbots came with Titanium,~ he explained. ::Where are you?:: He demanded of his creation.

::Just finishing my daily chores... What's going on?:: Wing replied, by now confused. It had been quite a while since he'd heard his creator that angry.

::My quarters. NOW.:: Dai Atlas snapped. ~You too. Bring Drift.~

~Right,~ Axe muttered, keenly aware of what this was likely to become. There simply were no good responses, only those with the fewest repercussions.

::Coming!:: Wing squeaked again. A white streak zipped around the Citadel from where Wing had been working to drop off the supplies he'd been using, then headed for Dai Atlas' quarters, landing on the balcony.

Both his creators and a very bewildered and highly unsettled looking Drift were already there.

"The Aerialbots are arriving on Titanium's ship. Their fate is your choice," Dai Atlas began bluntly.

Wing gawked at him for a long moment. He'd really never thought he'd see the Autobot jets again. "I... admit I've had thoughts about going to visit them. I... I do want to see them." His wings twitched, folding tighter to his back.

Drift looked between Wing, Dai Atlas and Axe before settling on the black mech. "What am I missing?"

"It's standing policy, since before we founded the city, that no mecha may leave," he murmured. "We gave you an exception because you bore a Great Sword. Titan we trust."

"The Aerialbots snuck on board Titan's ship and are fully loyal to the Prime," Dai Atlas growled. "I _will_ extinguish them before I allow them to leave."

Wing's golden optics went wide. "They're not bad mechs... They're just... different." He turned the full force of his pleading gaze on Dai Atlas, praying to Primus it would work this time.

"Good or bad is not the question," he dared to meet his creation's look. "They are loyal to the Prime. You've said it yourself. Do you honestly believe they could keep our existence a secret if _he_ demanded the answer? Or if the Decepticons captured them?"

"They would know that if they gave away the secret they'd be putting me in danger, and they wouldn't ever want to do that!" Wing protested. 

"Do I need to remind you what happened the _last_ time we allowed a stranger to suffer existence after learning of us?" Dai Atlas' wings flared wide and high, the pain of that loss still eating at his spark.

"Do they even know where they are?" Wing shot back, his own wings flaring out partway. "Do they even know where _we_ are? Did Titan tell them or has he been keeping them from finding out?"

"They are ignorant for now," Dai Atlas didn't conceal the relieved approval for that. "If they see the city or us, mecha will come looking for us."

Drift remained silent, but Wing knew him well enough to recognize the look of serious plotting and mulling of information.

Wing's wings flared out again, his pinions spreading out from his shoulder nacelles. "I'll go on the ship... They can stay in stasis until we're out of the system, then I can talk to them and interact with them until Titan finds a spaceport to leave them at."

Axe almost sagged in relief as Dai Atlas considered his youngest and only surviving creation. 

"Very well," the giant blue triple changer agreed after a long, tense moment.

"You're an Initiate," Axe stopped Drift's words before he even fully formed the thought. "You are not leaving the Citadel."

Slowly, the white jet relaxed. His wings folded down behind his back again as he gave Drift an apologetic look, then turned his golden gaze back to Dai Atlas. "When are they due to arrive?"

"In thee joors," Dai Atlas told him. "I do not expect you to leave immediately. Titan and GoldenRod have been cooped up in that ship a long time."

"I know, it's a _long_ flight," Wing murmured, memories of his own journey as a second stage youngling easy to recall.

The white jet shook himself after a moment, wings flaring out and then closed again. "Once they've had some time to recover from being cooped up in their ship for that long, I'll go with them." His optics flicked to Drift again, knowing that he would have to leave both his mates behind for some time, at least a vorn, round trip.

"We'll survive," Drift said firmly. "Windswept has his studies to keep him distracted enough, and Thorn."

Wing trotted over to Drift, extending his field to mesh with the white grounder's, half surprised by the smooth acceptance and lack of distress in his white mate. The contact expressed the mingling of the desire to see the five mechs who'd raised him from sparklinghood to younglinghood and his reluctance to leave Drift and Windswept. He wasn't sure how he'd explain this to their blue mate, either.

"Shu, I get it well enough," Drift drew him close and rested his forehelm against Wing's. "We'll miss you, but a couple vorns isn't that long."

Wing chirred softly, leaning against his mate. "No, it's not that long, relatively speaking... Thank you for understanding."

Both giants in the room watched silently in approval until Drift stole a quick kiss.

"Don't forget to make sure those Aerials _know_ what will happen if they come near again," Dai Atlas rumbled.

Drift made a small sound and stepped away from Wing, recognizing the silent command to follow from Axe by now.

The white jet returned the kiss, then nodded to his creator. "I will make sure they know the consequences," he replied, wings fluttering. "And I hope it never comes to that."

"I would prefer that as well," the giant sighed, watching his mate and Drift leave. "I do have to give them a nod for pulling that off on Titan," he chuckled slightly. "Five stowaways on a two mecha ship. He won't live that down for some time."

Wing actually relaxed enough to giggle. "More material for you to tease him with, I'd bet. I'm surprised they managed to stay hidden as long as they must have, to avoid getting kicked off!"

"Titan said something about being in stasis," Dai Atlas grumbled and shook his helm. "Scat, go finish your chores and enjoy your last day or two with space to spread your wings."

"That would explain it." Wing grinned cheekily at his creator. "On the way back, after we drop off the Aerials, it'll give me plenty of time to pick his processor about all the embarrassing material he's got on you!"

The white jet scrammed before Dai Atlas could respond to that.


	35. Last Night Together

Windswept changed course, angling for the Citadel and specifically the balcony belonging to the quarters he shared with Drift. His spirits rose a little at the sight of his mate waiting for them.

Though he been cleared to fly on his own for quite some time, flying with Wing was still special, the white jet keeping his promise to teach him, or simply go and _fly_ with him. Windswept had been delighted when Wing had commed him to go flying this afternoon, only to have his mate be slightly... _off_.

It was nothing that Windswept could pin down, and he was not willing to start prying just yet. He had accepted long ago that there were things that Knights did not share outside their own, not even with a mate. It was simply how things were.

With that in the back of his processor Windswept transformed, dropping onto the balcony in a smooth landing and making his way over to Drift, falling into the white grounders arms and stretching up for a greeting kiss. Lips met in familiar passion, but this close Drift couldn't hide that he was disturbed, not that he was trying very hard.

By the time the kiss ended Wing had wrapped his arms around them, leaning on Drift with an open need.

"We'll be fine," Drift murmured, turning his helm to kiss Wing.

"What is it?" Windswept asked softy, looking from one to the other as he pressed his frame against Drift's. Both of his mates upset was reason enough to at least ask, even if they ended up refusing to tell him.

"Remember how the Aerialbots raised Wing this time around, until he was a youngling?" Drift asked, drawing the blue mech close.

"Yes." Windswept tone was mildly confused, wondering what that had to do with anything now that they were here in the city. Still, he leaned against Drift, field reaching out to include Wing as well.

"Apparently I didn't explain how permanent the good-bye needed to be," Wing sighed, the sound a mixture of dread and excitement that only confused Windswept more. "They stowed away on Titanium's ship. They're here. But they're Autobots, so they can't be allowed to see the city. They can't know what's _here_. I'm going to be taking them far enough away that they are not a danger ... but that means I'll be gone for a couple vorns."

The small blue mech processed that, taking his time to work through it completely before focusing on Wing. "But you are coming back."

"Always!" the white jet gasped, shocked that any other idea was even an option. "I got myself _reincarnated_ to come home, to come back to Drift."

"Two vorns is a long time, especially with my training," Drift murmured, not concealing that he would miss Wing desperately.

"They won't let you go too?" Windswept leaned his helm against Drift's chest, reaching around to catch one of Wing's hands and hold it as he tried to work out everything that happening. Not that he was entirely sure what he would do if both of them were to leave him for that long, but...

"No, I can't go," Drift's engine grumbled. "I'm not a Knight yet."

"Come inside," Wing gently tugged at them both. "Energon, and we can talk."

Feeling the emptiness in his tanks that he had learned the hard way meant it was time to refuel, Windswept nodded and went along without letting go of either of his mates until they were inside.

Slipping loose he crossed the room to fetch them all energon. He returned with three cubes and snuggled with his mates on the couch as he handed a cube to each.

"Okay, so here's the outline," Wing settled against Drift and sipped on his cube. "The Aerialbots are in stasis on Titanium's ship right now, and they'll stay that way until we've cleared the system and then some. Titanium and GoldenRod will be going with me. I'll spend the time between when we bring them out of stasis and when we find a spaceport to drop them off...."

"Si Tremir around Zabrqu 5," Drift suggested, earning a startled look from Wing. "I know every threat vector in this sector," he shrugged.

"Okay, right. We'll drop them off close to Autobot territory, then head back," Wing picked up again. "The entire trip should be over within a couple vorns, but I can't give an exact length I'll be gone. We'll be on a comm blackout until we're almost back. You'll find out only a few joors before we land."

Windswept nodded from where he was seated on the other side of Drift. Having Wing gone for that long was going to be distressing for him, but it was going to be absolute torture for Drift, leaving an emptiness that Windswept knew from experience he would be unable to fill. It was going to be unpleasant for Wing too, though he'd have the distraction of his caretakers for a fair chunk of it.

"It's going to be a long couple of vorns," Drift murmured with a faint tremor as the reality of being without Wing again started to settle on him.

Windswept swallowed his energon quickly, getting rid of his cube and wrapping his frame around Drift, projecting love and devotion and the fact that he would be _here_ , for what it was worth. A white arm looped around him, hugging him tightly as Drift expressed his thanks in a kiss.

"Windswept, I do have a favor I need to ask of you," Wing sounded a bit sheepish.

Blue optics focused on him instantly, the blue mech willing to do anything Wing would ask of him. "Name it."

"I need someone to take care of my roses while I'm gone," he actually ducked his helm, causing Drift to snicker. "You're one of the only mecha who's bothered to learn how. Please?"

"Of course." Windswept smiled, amusement slipping into his field. "I'd love to."

"Thank you," Wing managed before Drift turned to claim his mouth.

"Enough talk," the white grounder rumbled. "Want to _enjoy_ our final night together."

Windswept purred in agreement, watching eagerly as Wing shivered at the raw, untempered lust in Drift's field. Two sets of black hands explored white frames, the kiss Drift claimed utterly incendiary. Despite having Drift's attention completely focused on their mate, Windswept could only enjoy watching the intensity, grateful to his spark that they tolerated ... _wanted_ ... him at all.

Drift's mouth found Wing's neck, drawing a soft, trembling moan from the white jet. Both their fields were bright and rich with arousal, their frames already hot next to Windswept's.

Shivering at the passion and arousal flowing off of the pair, Windswept shifted so that he was out of physical range but could still see and feel _everything_. As much as he enjoyed being the center of Drift's attention, when his first mate was fixated on Wing there was a quality to the passion that simply couldn't be matched. It was intense to simply be near.

Another moan and Drift ground his hips against Wing's, drawing a shiver from the jet under him as a valve cover snapped open.

Windswept moaned as well, wings flaring when Wing's did and he committed all of this to memory for the next few vorns. It was intense as always when Drift thrust into Wing, both their moans thick with the familiar pleasure as helms tipped forward into another kiss.

Memories of being the one under Drift assaulted Windswept, drawing him further into action he was watching. Yet as good as the physical felt, he knew without question that for both himself and Wing it was the emotional connection to the white grounder that made it so good.

For Windswept it was Drift's desire for him, true and honest when they were like this, that he needed and treasured so much. Like this, with them, Drift let go. He was still in control, but he didn't need to conceal his true emotions or needs.

It felt _good_ even to watch, to know that Drift's pleasure meant he was receiving something he needed.

An unfamiliar click drew Windswept's hazy attention to the pair as he tried to work out what had unlocked, only to see a trickle of rich red light come from the center seam of Drift's parting chest plates.

Memories flashed through his processor, of Wing claiming his spark, and the pure bliss and comfort that had come with that, peace he had never imagined. Right on the heals of that was that he'd never seen Drift's spark before, never even thought of his mate considering spark merging as an option, much less that Drift would do it.

The flash of _surprise-delight-reassurance_ that rippled through Wing's field as he willingly spread his chest plates fully seemed to indicate that it wasn't something Wing was even remotely expecting either. Golden light mixed with deep red, shading their white frames several shades of orange as they held apart, only the outermost coronas brushing and a few bright strands making contact.

Windswept shuddered at the emotions from the pair as they washed over him, so much stronger than before as the sparks touched and caressed. His own spark surged and pulsed in his chest, remembering and wanting the closeness that it had felt not so very long ago.

Moans escaped his vocalizer to join with Wing and Drift's as his optics when dim against the growing brightness of the shared sparks. His optics were locked on Drift, watching his mate keen and tremble, the grounder's field making it clear just how intense this was.

From outside the action Windswept had the opportunity to witness the physical reality, the way both frames stilled as their sparks took precedence over the slide of penetration. Yet as movement stilled, the pleasure and charge roared higher. Drift's field was full was _need-fear-desire-want_ of a dozen flavors, driven by a functioning that Windswept couldn't even image and knew he'd been told little of. Truth and past he might never understand in its entirety as he looked at two sparks that must have been made for each other as blurring lines made it hard to distinguish which emotions and desires belonged to each of his mates.

The energy built until there was no containing, exploding outward in the most intimate form of overload, and carrying the joined mecha with it. Wing's keen mingled with Drift's screaming roar until Drift's voice cut off as he slumped down, completely off line from the overload.

Under him Wing continued to writhe and keen for part of a klik before sinking into a lax, panting afterglow while their sparks separated and Drift's chest plates closed. 

A bit loopily, Wing turned his helm to look at Windswept and extended a hand to the blue jet. "Help me get him to the berth?"

Despite the words, Wing's field promised much pleasure for his conscious mate.

"Of course." Windswept rose, clamping down on his burning arousal before leaning around to kiss Wing lightly on the helm. Stepping back, he studied Drift for moment, then reached out, grabbing one of the white grounder's arms and laid it over his shoulders before he hefted the larger mech off Wing. The jet followed to his pedes quickly and more smoothly than Windswept had expected considering the energy he had just expended.

Without hesitation Wing helped shoulder the bulk of Drift's mass, nuzzling the limp warrior before shifting to take his full mass in his arms. "May we share sparks too?" he asked almost shyly, hope coloring the field still meshed with Windswept's.

The shiver that ran through the blue mech showed revealed just as clearly as the need and desire in the shared field did how much Windswept _wanted_. But underneath it all too was the concern for Wing's well-being.

"Not if you need to recharge." Windswept murmured as he followed Wing while the jet carried Drift's frame through their quarters and set him gently on the far side of the large berth.

"I don't need to that soon," Wing shifted and pulled Windswept close for a long, passionate kiss. "I have plenty of energy, and I _want_ to."

The blue mech melted against him, moaning into the kiss as his arousal flared in his field once more, backed by desire and need. "Please."

"Thank you," Wing whispered as he drew Windswept down with him, settling the smaller jet on top of him and claiming another long, slow, passionate kiss that left no doubt just how much Wing _wanted_.

There was no hesitation this time, the soft click on Windswept's chestplates unlocking loud in the quiet room. For the moment the blue mech left them closed though, hands running lightly over Wing's frame, tracing seams, plating and wings. Wing followed suit, his chestplates unlocked but closed as he returned the touches, kissing and indulging in the much gentler pleasure that they both enjoyed and Drift was rarely in a mood for.

It was Windswept who lost the fight to savor the slow pleasure first despite how much he enjoyed it. His spark had never completely settled from watching and feeling the two merge before, and this close to Wing's it was straining to get out.

"Please." He whispered again as he kissed the larger mech. Asking, always asking for what he needed.

Instead of words, Wing responded by arching his chest up slightly and folding the complex plates of armor back, revealing the golden spark within in all its glory. Even as the crystalline chamber began to spiral open tendrils of bright yellow light reached out for Windswept's spark, for his armor, for any connection they could make.

The caress of spark energy left Windswept gasping for a moment. The warmth and power of Wing's spark before it ever touched his own something that had been lost on him last time, blinded as he had been by fear and shame with only the trust in the mech with him driving him on at all.

Shifting, he freed a hand and reached out to touch, shivering as small wisps reached out in return, curling around his fingers and tickling at his hand. The sounds of pleasure the touch drew from Wing lit a warmth in him, and were savored before his own spark protested the torture of waiting and Windswept gave in, armor and protective chamber moving quickly to reveal the sky blue spark they protected.

"We'll have many, many vorns to explore the pleasures together," Wing promised through his moans, his frame trembling as the sharp pleasure of the first connected tendril roared through his entire frame.

Pleasure. Love. Adoration. Joy. Grief. Fear. Longing.

It all flowed from Wing in that first contact. A conflicted jumble that expressed the white jet's emotions on the upcoming separation and its cause in full.

All of which was accepted without judgment, acknowledged, just as Windswept had always done with Drift, even if the grounder had never shared so intimately.

Love and devotion flowed in return, joy in the sharing and the gift he had been granted in this new functioning he could never have imagined. And with them the knowledge that the small blue mech would miss his mate while Wing was gone, mourn his absence and celebrate his return.

Too was included the promise that Windswept would care for Drift as best he could, that Wing need not worry for his love while he was gone.

 _Joy-thanks-affection_ flowed in return as a few memories flickered to the surface. Being hugged by Fireflight, then the rest of the gestalt as soon as he was brought on line in his new life, his memory banks empty but for the knowledge of who these five mecha and a handful of others were and a basic language back. The safety and joy of so much love directed at him from the giants.

Vorns later, the grief at knowing he was going to leave them the next orn, even though he knew he had to go home. He had to return to Drift. He needed to reclaim his title as a Knight of Light.

The quivering joy at knowing they had found him. Terror when it sank in why his creator had been so angry at learning of it. Relief that he would be allowed to say a proper goodbye and not cost them their freedom or function.

~Peace for them and for you.~ Windswept murmured over the merge, accepting that this needed to happen as he sank deeper into the sharing, passion and pleasure flowing both ways.

~Yes,~ Wing moaned, his frame beginning to quiver with the building overload.

~Love you,~ Was the whispered reply, more felt than actually spoken as Windswept let go, trusting Wing to catch him if he fell too far. He clung to the mech beneath him as the sense of _Wing_ and being _one_ on a level he couldn't even comprehend swept through him. As much as the physical pleasure was the emotional _joy-pleasure_ that came as much from Wing as Windswept, twining into every circuit of both mecha as their cortexes overloaded and dropped them both off line.


	36. Aerials and Wing

Titanium stood at the top of the open cargo bay hatch of the ship, datapad and stylus in hand. He'd been overseeing the loading of the supplies that would be needed to get them at least to the spaceport, where they could restock for the return trip. The big Autobot didn't want to take any more from the city than they absolutely needed to.

Part of his attention was on the datapad in his hand. The rest was on Dai Atlas and Axe, who stood nearby. The pair were looking distinctly fidgety. Clearly they weren't happy about this. To Titanium's experienced optic, Dai Atlas looked on the verge of a full-scale freakout.

GoldenRod, in the ship's medbay checking on the Aerialbots, reached through their bond and snorted as he took in the Circle leader's twitching. ~If he keeps that up, he might need to be sedated to keep him from frying his processor,~ the gold mech commented wryly. Titanium choked back a snicker.

Axe gave him a glance at the sound, but quickly focused on his mate again and their mutual effort to keep themselves under control as their youngest and his mates entered the bay and took everything in with a sweeping gaze.

With the silent yet obvious communication of stable lovers Drift and Windswept wandered towards Titanium, giving Wing space to spend some time with his creators.

"How upset are they?" Windswept asked very softly once they were close to Titanium.

Titanium chuckled very softly. "Holding off a full-scale breakdown. I've seen it happen once or twice, a long time ago, so I can spot the signs. Goldie's commenting that Dai might need to be sedated himself before he goes into CPU meltdown." He tilted his helm toward the blue mech. "See the way his wings are twitching, and he can't keep still?"

Drift nodded, having picked up the sign of agitation, Wing and Windswept were showing it as well. What he hadn't picked up was the extent of the agitation.

Windswept tilted his helm just enough to observe Dai Atlas out of the corner of his optic, noting as Drift did the same before nodding at Titanium. "Understandable."

"Should Redline be here?" Drift asked quietly.

"He's around here somewhere... I spotted him not that long ago. Axe and Atlas will be fine. I already told them that I would keep an optic on Wing. It's just nerves. Mostly." Titanium made a note on his datapad as the last of the supplies were loaded. Tilting his helm, he watched the other two big mechs clump together with Wing.

"Which they'll be taking their stress out on me and every other Knight until you get back," Drift grimaced before schooling his features to a sort of resigned acceptance as the small family moved to join them.

Titanium thought for a moment, then leaned toward Drift. "Once you learn to duck at the right moment, it won't be that bad. Or pick up a laser pointer. Guaranteed to distract Atlas. Trust me on that one. You're tougher than you look; you'll manage."

Blue wings flicked out before Windswept regained control, the tension in the room starting to get to him. Not that he would have missed seeing his mate off for anything. "This needs to happen." He muttered, talking to himself more than any mech in particular.

"It does," Drift agreed, stepping forward to draw Wing into an embrace and heated kiss that under other circumstances would have them sneaking off to overload.

Titanium put the datapad away, turning to watch as Wing almost disappeared in a dual embrace. It was amusing in a sad way how warrior-mate and creator managed to vie for his attention in such very different but so similar ways.

It wasn't until Wing squirmed a bit in protest that the pair let the panting mech go. A second, quick kiss to Drift and Wing turned, got a step out of the way and pulled Windswept close for a goodbye kiss.The blue mech melted against him, leaning into the kiss with all of the emotion and the passion in his spark, just as possessive in his own way of the white jet.

Titanium smiled at the trio, then turned his attention to Dai Atlas and Axe. "I swear to you I won't let anything happen to him. Please, relax before you fry something. Atlas, your wings are rattling so loud I wouldn't be surprised if half the city could hear it by now."

"I'll be fine," the blue giant grumbled even as he leaned against Axe for mutual support as they watched their youngest and saw how strong the bond with his lover already was.

When they finally parted Wing turned to give Axe a final hug and locked his wings down tightly as he joined Titanium to board the ship that was many, many times larger than the one Drift preferred.

It was only when the hatch shut behind them that the painfully tight tuck was let go and display the stress that would hurt his loved ones even more to see. "Thank you for doing this for me," he said softly.

Titanium placed a gentle hand on Wing's shoulder. "You're welcome." He tilted his helm. "Do you want to see them, or would you prefer to wait until we're out of the system and we can bring them out of stasis?"

"I ... I think I'll wait until they're ready to come out of stasis," Wing decided. "I'm a good pilot. I flew an Autobot shuttle from Cybertron as a youngling."

Titanium nodded, a faint smile appearing on his face. "One this big? This is one of the larger shuttles." He led the way to the cockpit, showing Wing the control panels as he settled into the pilot's chair, hiking his wing out of the way to give Wing a better line of sight. "Stellar Wind to New Crystal City. We're ready for liftoff."

"The one I took was the size of Drift's _Wing's Spark_. Not nearly this big," he shook his helm, still amused by how much he'd gotten into Drift's consciousness in the seven vorns he had the first time. "I can still fly this."

"New Crystal City to Stellar Wind. You are cleared for takeoff. Safe journey and quick return with our sparkling," a strong, familiar voice responded.

"I'll be back, Thorn," Wing chuckled slightly. "You just keep everyone sane until I do."

Titanium chuckled. "Will do. Warn Atlas that if he doesn't calm down, I'll help Goldie paint him bright pink. See you when we get back."

Turning his attention to the console, Titanium started the engines, maneuvering the ship off the landing field and heading for the top of the atmosphere. He let Wing hover over his shoulder for the best view of the console, pointing out the modifications that had been made in the vorns since he'd made the ship his. To no surprise, the small white jet was a good student and did know a fair amount about the standard Autobot configuration. 

Once they broke the planetary gravity well he upped the engine power to take them out of the system on the far side of the sun.

Titanium leaned on the back of the pilot's chair, explaining the specialized systems and gauges that had been added over the vorns. GoldenRod joined them after a while, leaning against his mate's shoulder and humming softly.

"There are several sets of extra quarters near ours on the main deck, or you could stay in ours if you want to," the gold-armored mech commented after a while.

Wing looked up at him with such a grateful expression it hurt to see. The white jet was prepared to be alone until his caretakers were roused, but it didn't mean it was good for him. "I would like that, if you don't mind," he turned pleading golden optics on Titanium.

The big triple changer smiled softly, placing a gentle hand on Wing's shoulder. "Of course you can stay with us. I don't mind at all. Feel free to curl right up with us if you need to."

"Thank you," Wing purred, a bit of tension melting away. "I haven't really been alone in a long time."

Both mechs smiled. "We know, and we understand the need for contact."

* * *

* * *

* * *

Three and a half metacycles out of New Crystal City, GoldenRod stirred on the berth he and his mate had been sharing with Wing, onlining his optics. It took him a moment to fully boot up, the gold mech stretching before lifting his helm. Spotting Wing, he smiled warmly, sitting up on the berth. The white jet was curled up on Titanium's chest, right over the much bigger mech's cockpit. One of Titanium's arms rested lightly over Wing, an unconscious and protective gesture.

Several times Wing had required sedatives to calm down enough to rest. When the close quarters of the ship got too bad and Wing's homesickness flared up, the big purple and silver triple changer had taken to carrying the much smaller jet tucked into his side, in the crook of his arm as he would a youngling.

It was adorable beyond measure and a reminder that no matter how much Wing had accomplished, he was still a young mecha with almost no experience being separated from his creators.

Last recharge cycle was the worst, with anticipation of activating the Aerialbots when they came on line. GoldenRod was certain that only the heavy sedative load he'd given the young jet had gotten him to settle at all. Even now he was twitching and cooing in anticipation.

It took another few breems for Titanium to stir, ruby optics slowly warming up to their usual glow. Titanium took in the ball of jet on his chest and had to laugh softly, very carefully sitting up, bringing up his other arm to cradle Wing against the blue glass of his cockpit. The young jet barely stirred.

GoldenRod slid off the berth, fetching a cube of grounder energon for himself and two cubes of jet-grade, handing one to his mate and putting the other aside for Wing. "Once he's awake and refueled, I'll start bringing the Aerials out of stasis."

"I recommend against standing between them, you might get buried in the pile," Titanium chuckled as he sipped his cube. "I think their combined age is still less than yours."

GoldenRod laughed. "I'll get out of the way as fast as I can. If I get buried you can dig me out." He reached out to stroke Wing's helm. "He's still out of it."

"He's adorable," Titanium cooed softly, one large finger stroking Wing's hip. "Sparkling sized for me."

"He is," the gold mech agreed, watching Wing shift into the touch. "Adorable." He leaned against his mate's side, watching the young jet sleep.

"Just how heavy a sedative load did you give him?" Titanium glanced at his mate after finishing his cube. "He's usually at least twitched by now."

"Would have worn off by now," the gold mech replied. "I'm very good at judging how much sedatives to give a mech." He regarded the white jet for a moment. "I think he's just too comfortable to move. Try putting him down, if you can bear to let that much adorableness go." There was a teasing challenge in GoldenRod's voice and a sparkle in his blue optics.

"I think I can manage," Titanium snorted, though he didn't move right away. There was a distinct delay between his final look down and when he reluctantly shifted Wing to the berth, still warm from their frames but no longer warmed.

A tiny wing-twitch of agitation resulted as the purring slowed.

GoldenRod grinned at the reluctance with which Titanium released Wing, the grin widening at the wing-twitch. "Time to wake up, sleepyhelm," the gold mech chirped, reaching forward to lightly tickle a folded wing.

"Why?" Wing mumbled and tried to pull his wing back, not really with it.

"Because this orn the Aerialbots come out of stasis," Titanium replied, gently stroking Wing's cheek with a fingertip. "Remember? You spent all of last orn practically bouncing off the walls with excitement."

Before he'd even finished speaking Wing's framed jerked up, wide awake and focused. "I'm up. Let's go."

"Energon first, youngster," Titanium chuckled and handed him the cube. "You'll need it, I'm sure."

GoldenRod chuckled. "Drink up, little one. You are definitely going to need the energy." He chuckled again at the look that nickname got in response.

Instead of arguing, Wing complied. The reward was far too high, and he knew they were telling the truth. He managed not to gulp the energon, but he downed it as quickly as he could.

Titanium slid off the berth, leisurely stretching, flaring his armor and stretching his wings to their fullest span before relaxing them again, twitching them several times. He shook, armor plates rattling before settling back into place. GoldenRod watched his mate, making a note to help oil a few of the harder-to-reach places when they had the time.

Once all of Wing's energon was gone, the gold mech got to his pedes, giving himself a brief stretch before leading the way to the medical bay with a all-but-bouncing Wing on his pedes.

"The stasis won't have hurt them or anything?" Wing suddenly asked, needing something to occupy him more than needing an answer.

"They're fine," GoldenRod replied. "It's more like they're in recharge and I'm not letting them wake up. More like a long recharge than anything else. They might be a little groggy when they come to, but otherwise they'll be fine."

"So groggy, then pounce," Wing chuckled. "Do they know I'm going to be here?"

"They were of the opinion that we'd be landing, then they'd wake up and go to where you were," Titanium replied, bringing up the rear. "So no, they don't know that you came to them. Their reactions will be quite amusing when they find out. Might take them a minute to realize who you are, since you looked quite a bit different then you did when you left them."

GoldenRod trotted ahead, opening the medbay doors. Visible beyond it were five mechs supine on the med berths, the largest in the middle and all seeming to be in good repair and health.

"They look like I remember, Cybertronian forms, I'd guess," Wing commented, watching closely as GoldenRod began the boot procedure on Silverbolt.

GoldenRod carefully released the stasis, keeping an optic on the monitors as Silverbolt began coming online. Once he was satisfied with the readings, the gold-armored mech moved over to Skydive, then Air Raid. By the time Fireflight began booting up, Silverbolt was already groaning softly and levering himself up into a sitting position.

Titanium leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wakey, wakey," He called cheerfully as the last of the five, Slingshot, onlined his optics, blinking at the ceiling.

"Hi," Wing chirped, modulating his voice to something resembling the youngling voice they'd remember.

Silverbolt's wings shot up as his optics flashed. "Wing?"

"Yes," the white jet trilled in his adult voice. "I really wasn't expecting you to do anything this crazy."

Titanium snorted. "These are the Aerials. 'Crazy' is their stock-in-trade." He waved off the chorus of denials from the fliers as they got to their pedes, shaking off the last cobwebs.

Fireflight almost faceplanted onto the deck as he tried to scramble upright too quickly. GoldenRod danced out of the way, moving to stand by his mate once all of the Aerials were fully online, albeit more than a little groggy.

"They're just really young," Wing chuckled as he walked up to Fireflight and hugged his creator. "I'm glad you came."

As if that was some kind of signal, the other four members of the gestalt pounced. Wing vanished under a flood of red and white and black and wings, all of them talking at once.

GoldenRod snickered. Sparklings. The lot of them.

"It's nice to see the war didn't completely destroy them as mecha," Titanium said quietly as he enjoyed the _pleasure-joy-excitement_ radiating off the six smaller mecha.

"And that is what we call the 'tackle-glomp'," GoldenRod snickered, watching the swarm of wings. "Don't smother the mech, please! Drift and Windswept and Blue-aft would never forgive us!"

"Not to mention Axe," Titanium added with a twitch of wings. "He may be smaller, but he's _very_ protective of his creation."

"Drift's here too?" Silverbolt twisted his helm around to look at them. "Is this where _all_ the MIA mecha go?"

"Those who have no interest in fighting anymore, and know about the place at all," GoldenRod replied. He gave the Aerialbot leader that "I know something you don't" grin again.

"And were actually nowhere near the place anymore," Titanium added. "You've been in stasis nearly four metacycles. When I was talking to the leader of the place, he told me in no uncertain terms that if you laid optics on it, you would never leave short of being permanently deactivated." He flared his wings. "Consider yourselves warned."

Wings twitched in agitation from the mech pile.

"He's telling the truth. My creators will do _anything_ to keep us safe," Wing said quietly. "The good news is that we'll have several metacycles to catch up and say goodbye before you're dropped off at a spaceport Autobots frequent enough. You really can not come looking for me again."

"Unless you plan on retiring from the war entirely, like Drift, myself, and Goldie did," Titanium added. "Dai Atlas said so. They let me arrive and leave again because Atlas and I are very old friends. But they don't trust you five."

There was protesting from the gestalt.

"They don't know you," Wing soothed them a bit. "And I ... it still comes down to if you ever see what we built, you're not going to leave. We can't risk it. If the Decepticons ever find us we're dead. I'm dead. For good this time, cause Drift and Windswept will be gone too."

"We'd never left the 'Cons know!" Skydive protested.

"Dai Atlas does not know that, nor can he be sure of it," GoldenRod pointed out. "Now, you snuck on board looking for Wing. Wing came to you, away from his creators, his home, and his mates. Leave the depressing talk for later."

"Yes, please," Wing added, nuzzling the gestalt. "Let's enjoy the next few metacycles. It's what we have."

"Yes, let's," Silverbolt agreed, hugging the adult form noticeably smaller than his own. "We haven't seen you in too long. Much too long."

"They gave you good upgrades," Fireflight latched on to the topic.

"Is that your Great Sword?" Skydive asked, his fingers twitching just short of touching it.

"Agreed. Yes and thank you. Yes, though not the same one as before. Drift has my first Great Sword," Wing answered them, well accustomed to the multi-level conversations.

"Wait ... your mates?" Silverbolt suddenly stared at him. "But..."

"But nothing," Wing flared his slender wings out in pure defiance. "My mates. Drift. He came back. He's mine."

"Mates, plural?" Slingshot's optics narrowed. His wings twitched. "As in more than one?"

"You're not one to complain," Titanium rumbled. 

"No one asked you!" The aggressive Aerialbot glared at him, then winced as Silverbolt swatted him across the back of the helm.

"Yes, mates, plural, as in two," Wing answered smoothly. "Drift found a mate while we were separated. We're building a triad," he tapped the intended marker on his shoulder.

"And a fine triad they are." Titanium tilted his helm.

Fireflight had gone off into a torrent of questions: what Wing and Drift were up to, who was the third member of the triad, what life was like for the white jet, and a million other questions. Silverbolt finally had to tell Fireflight to stop just to give Wing time to answer the questions being thrown at him.

Wing just laughed happily and began tugging them from the medbay towards the rec room as he answered, all the while carefully withholding any details that would draw in mecha to look for New Crystal City and any clues as to where it was.

"Can we fly together when we get to the spaceport?" Fireflight asked after torrent of questions. He eyed Wing's nacelles and folded wings. "It's been so long since we've flown together."

"If Wing flies with you, I'm going, too," Titanium announced, his tone brooking no argument. "I promised Atlas I'd keep an optic on Wing, and Atlas would throw the mother of all fits if he found out I'd let Wing out of my sight for even a nanoklik."

"Drift said there are uninhabited worlds we can stop at," Wing looked at them, willing to bow to his elder's tactical experiance. "We could fly on one of them. It'd be nice to stretch my wings."

"Stunt frames like you are not meant to be cooped inside for vorns on end, like groundframes and some larger fliers, or even most triple changers can," GoldenRod pointed out, getting energon and passing out the cubes of jet-grade. Bodies draped themselves over the chairs and couches filling the rec room.

Titanium queried the ship's database. "There's a good spot about a decaorn from here... Uninhabited, no weird weather... Should be a good spot to stop for a flight break."

Upon hearing that Wing was a stunt frame, Fireflight was off again. This time the torrent of questions was about Wing's frame and its stats and abilities that the white jet happily answered, including what he could do of showing off his frame's special features on the ground.

Eventually the conversation turned back to sharing experiences, what the Aerialbots had been up to, and their reactions to Wing's sudden departure. He'd told them he'd had to go, but having it actually happen had been totally different than hearing about it. It had been easy to dismiss when he'd told them he was leaving, but for him to actually disappear had thrown them into a panic.

"It's fairly normal for younglings to say things like that, but for them to actually go through with it is a different cube of energon entirely," Titanium commented, interrupting a brewing argument between Slingshot and Air Raid.

"I prepared you as best I could," Wing murmured, miserable that he'd caused such distress. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just needed to get home."

Wings twitched sheepishly. "We have to admit we didn't believe it," Silverbolt confessed. "Until you actually left." He leaned over to embrace the smaller jet, stroking his back gently. "We were so worried about you."

"Every time one of the roaming hunter ships came in, we'd ask if they'd seen you," Air Raid added, sidling closer. 

"We can vouch for that," GoldenRod confirmed.

"And they didn't, until this one," Wing sighed though his vents and nuzzled his second family. "Because I wasn't roaming, and we guard our safety jealously."

The Aerialbots converged on him in a group hug. "So many things could have gone wrong..."

"First one of you who works himself into a panic gets ice water dumped on them at the first available opportunity," Titanium interrupted, getting dirty looks from one or two of the Aerials. "Having grown up around you five, I'm certain Wing was well aware of the dangers."

"I was," Wing assured them, snuggling into the group. "I knew where I was going too. I really did have that lifetime of memories I told you about."

"We believe you now," Skydive replied.

"But we had to see for ourselves that you were all right," Fireflight jumped in. "We _had_ to know for sure."

"Did you tell anyone where you were going?" Wing asked, slightly concerned for them on their return.

The gestalt members exchanged sheepish looks. "No... We didn't know how long Titanium would be remaining on Cybertron. We only just had time to figure out what we wanted to do and collect the supplies we would need as stealthily as possible before sneaking aboard and finding places to hide."

Titanium winced. "You five are in for the worst lecture-slash-rant you'll ever hear in your lives when you get back to Cybertron."

"And brig time," GoldenRod added quietly. "Desertion is something Prowl's never going to tolerate."

"We didn't desert!" Slingshot snarled, his wings flaring wide and high.

"But he doesn't know that," Silverbolt reminded him. "We are AWOL."

"And have been for over a vorn now," Titanium added. "It'll be a couple vorns before you get back to Cybertron."

The five exchanged glances. "...oops?"

Titanium shook his helm. "Seeing your sparkling again would be worth the price, I would think... I know it'd be a price I would pay were I in the same situation. But you're still going to be in a slagload of trouble."

Three pairs of optics zoomed in on Fireflight and Silverbolt. "You two are talking to him first."

"We are _all_ going to face him, together," Silverbolt rumbled, flaring his wings in a dare to challenge his authority.

GoldenRod smothered a chuckle, turning it into a cough. "Sorry," he said as five pairs of optics fixed on him. "A little energon in the intakes." He waved his cube at the suspicious looks.

Titanium's amusement trickled along their bond, the bigger mech shaking his helm at his mate.

"Prowl's a good mech," Wing cooed soothingly. "He won't do anything too bad."

"Might lecture you until your audial receivers fall off, though." Titanium's shudder was clearly born of personal experience. "You five have my sympathies in advance."

"Is he worse than Dai Atlas?" Wing glanced over. "He was never hard on me."

"You never met him when the sparkling protocols didn't protect you," Silverbolt chuckled. "We caught plenty of it for you."

The big ex-Autobots reply was to send a databurst of part of one of the worse lectures he'd endured from Prowl, many millennia ago. The Praxian had been nearly spitting mad.

GoldenRod winced as he too reviewed the databurst. "Ouch... What the frag did you _do_?"

"I was younger then, and a nowhere near as restrained as I am now. One thing Dai Atlas and I have in common is a very headstrong nature." The older mech shrugged.

"Wow," Wing's golden optics were wide and bright. "No wonder everyone's afraid of him."

"Except Jazz," Fireflight snickered.

"Jazz is his mate," Wing chuckled. "They settle things in private."

"Even Drift stepped lightly around Prowl when Prowl was in a temper," Titanium agreed. "Prowl's even more of a stickler for rules than Dai is, sometimes. These five are in for one Pit of a slagstorm when they get back."

"Worth it, to see our sparkling again." Slingshot raised his chin defiantly.

"Yes, worth it," Silverbolt agreed, though his wings spoke of less willingness. He knew his punishment would be far worse as the gestalt's leader.

"I do wish you wouldn't get in trouble over me," Wing murmured. "But I'm glad to see you again."

"And we're so glad to see you again." That initiated another group cuddle.

"Prowl should have been aware of how panicked you five were when Wing left," Titanium commented after a thoughtful moment. "He _might_ better understand why you went AWOL. Slim chance, but you never know." He shrugged.

"He knows what panic is," Wing said thoughtfully. "I remember one time when Jazz didn't come back from a mission. I saw him sneak out of the base to get him back by himself. Or maybe with Mirage. I wouldn't have seen him if he was there."

"And a mech as old as Prowl is should know by now that sparklings trump factions," GoldenRod added. "At the least he'll give you five a chance to explain yourselves before you get reamed."

"He probably won't punish you like you're true deserters," Titanium added. "Just focus on 'our sparkling' and he might calm down enough."

"And ask Sideswipe for survival pointers," Wing piped up with a grin. "He's always getting in trouble with Prowl."

The five Aerialbots seemed to be really thinking about that, muttering amongst themselves.

"So what have _you_ mecha been up to, besides worrying about me?" Wing broke it up a bit, snuggling into the group with a contented purr.

The whole gestalt began talking at once, sharing stories of the missions they'd been on and the places they'd been to, arguing over details and annoying each other by adding in the stupid stunts that various members of the group had gotten into. Once or twice it took a bark from Titanium to head off a physical fight.

All the white Wing laughed joyously.

* * *

* * *

* * *

It had been just over a decaorn since the Aerialbots had come out of stasis aboard the _Stellar Wind_. Every orn had been spent with Wing and the two older mechs, either swapping stories and experiences or just basking in their sparkling's presence while they enjoyed other forms of entertainment.

In the slightly crowded set of quarters the Aerialbots had been assigned, Fireflight was sitting off to one side, looking unusually thoughtful for the normally easily distracted mech. It was enough to get the attention of his gestalt-mates, who weren't used to Fireflight being that contemplative of anything.

"What's the shiny?" Silverbolt was the first to ask.

"Just thinking about something," Fireflight replied after blinking at Silverbolt for a moment, startled out of his thoughts. "Something Titan said after we were brought out of stasis. He and Goldie and Drift, they left because they didn't want to fight anymore. They found a place where they wouldn't have to fight anymore." Fireflight shifted. "I don't like this war, and I know you don't, either. Just leaving it behind, going where no one can find us... Sounds like a good idea."

Silverbolt cocked his helm, his wings twitching as he gave that real thought.

"I wouldn't mind," Skydive spoke up. "I've never liked fighting."

"I don't, either," Air Raid added after a long moment. "I hate it."

Slingshot stared at the other four. "Give it up? Leave? It's what we were built for!"

"You don't have to join those who leave," Silverbolt remained him. "We're a gestalt, not a single mech."

That stunned the entire room to silence.

Slingshot gawked at Silverbolt for the better part of a breem before he managed to get his vocalizer working again. "But... but that would be _worse_! I couldn't just leave you guys!"

Air Raid's wings twitched. "This war is never going to end, Slingshot. It's an endless cycle of death and pain and destruction, and I don't want to be part of it anymore."

"Neither do I," Fireflight agreed softly.

Silverbolt turned his optics to his gestalt-mates, judging them one at a time with bond and experience as to just how serious they were. If they spoke to Wing, there was no going back. This wasn't like their jaunt into the past. This wasn't like when they'd been barely a metacycle old and lured to joining the Decepticons for a time.

Prowl might forgive them, but Wing would not, and the command element of Wing's city were far more intent on killing deserters than the Seekers ever were.

"This means we'll _never_ see Cybertron again, or Earth, or anyone we've known. Not even _our_ creators," Silverbolt said softly.

There was a long silence as the group contemplated that. The other four exchanged glances. 

"If we want to avoid having to fight again, it might be for the best," Skydive said finally. "There are a few people I'll miss, though. But I don't want to have to fight anymore."

"We'll be labeled deserters, traitors," Slingshot reminded them.

"Not if we transmit our resignations when we reach a spaceport," Silverbolt said quietly. "Prowl will still be furious, but we _do_ have a right to resign."

"We can ask Titan how he dealt with Prowl, if we have to," Fireflight suggested. "He and Goldie and Drift resigned."

"They weren't created as Autobots," Skydive murmured. "They weren't _Prime's_."

"But they did it, and they're going where we want to," Fireflight said stubbornly.

"Yes, we can ask Titan," Silverbolt agreed. "First I want to know if Wing even wants us around. He has his real creators. He doesn't need us around."

"Why wouldn't he?" Fireflight blinked at Silverbolt, his wings hiking up higher. "He's as much ours as he is theirs. We raised him as a sparkling."

"As did they, all the way to an adult, _and_ from youngling to adult a second time, _and_ they are the ones he left us to return to," the large jet said with a grim sadness. "He left _us_ for _them_."

The other four were silent for a long moment before admitting that Silverbolt had a point. They would have to talk to Wing before deciding one way or the other.

"He said he left us for Drift, didn't he?" Fireflight's voice was soft, as of trying to convince himself.

"Not to leave _that_ young," Silverbolt sighed. "We can only hope that his spark is open enough to have us all."

Silverbolt received nods from the rest of his gestalt. Air Raid looked from one to the other, his wings twitching. "So... should we go talk to him?"

"Now," Fireflight couldn't stand not knowing.

"Yes, let's," Silverbolt agreed as he turned to lead the group to the common room to find their sparkling.

The two elder mechs were there as well, GoldenRod reading something on a datapad, curled up on one end of a couch with an energon cube in hand, while Titanium was working on what looked like an oversized flute. Wing was with the large triple, watching with interest.

As the Aerialbots entered the common room, three pairs of optics turned in their direction.

"What's wrong?" Wing asked almost immediately.

The five Aerialbots exchanged glances, not sure how to broach the subject. "Nothing's wrong... We've just been doing some thinking..."

"About?" Wing prodded, not about to take that for an answer.

"Something he said got stuck in our processors." Skydive flicked his wings at Titanium, who lifted an optic rim.

"Would that something happen to be the comment I made about not being able to see where we were going, where Wing lives now, unless you leave the Autobots permanently?" Titanium asked casually, huffing softly at the resulting twitching of wings and shifting of pedes.

Wing's optics narrowed. "Why would you want to leave? They're your family."

"For the same reason those two left... We've never liked fighting. We just never saw a way out." Air Raid shifted his pedes, pulling his wings in closer. "As far as we knew, there was nowhere we could go that the war couldn't find us. Now..."

"Now you have an out," Wing murmured, his wings relaxing a bit as he focused on Slingshot, knowing that if any of them resisted, it would be the most ill-tempered of them. "All five of you agreed?"

Even Slingshot nodded. Then Fireflight shifted his wings. "But we weren't sure if... If you'd even want us around. You're back with your real creators... You left us for them."

"You're still family," Wing stood and walked over to hug Fireflight, his wings and field extending the offer to them all. "Caretakers, creators. If you want to join me in New Crystal City, if you're _sure_ ," he met each of their optics, trying to express the full ramifications of what he was saying. "I will vouch for you."

Wings relaxed, and tension eased out of airframes. The five mechs clustered close to Wing, practically hiding the small white jet.

"We know what we'd be getting into, what the consequences would be," Silverbolt murmured.

Titanium snickered very softly. "Can't wait to see Little Blue's expression when he finds out about this..."

"Not nearly as thunderous as when I brought Drift home," Wing snickered from the middle of the pile.

"Still going to be a 'bang-helm-against-wall' type reaction," the big triple replied.

Fireflight was momentarily distracted. "'Little Blue'?"

"He means Dai Atlas," GoldenRod explained, looking up from his datapad. "They're the same height but Titan's got a larger flight mode. Dai got stuck with that nickname a very long time ago and has yet to convince Titan to drop it."

"They were in the military together, before the war," Wing added. "Titan's actually a lot older than Dai Atlas."

"I was there all through his youthful stupidity," the old mech agreed cheerfully. "And I remind him of that when he gets a little too full of himself. One of these orns I'll have to remind him that I can still hold my own against him in a sparring match." He snorted. "Drift's going to be more than a little annoyed, though..."

Wing cocked his helm. "Why?"

"Drift and Titan sparred in Iacon," GoldenRod explained. "Were at it for joors, until Titan here was almost literally dropping from exhaustion. Thing is, Titan was actually holding back. He wasn't fighting Drift with all his ability, to draw out the match. So Drift doesn't know what Titan here is really capable of. Imagine how Drift will react when he sees Titan crossing swords with Dai Atlas and actually matching Little Blue's skill."

Wing's optics went wide, not from the idea that Titanium and Dai Atlas were a match, but that Drift thought he could hold his own against the giant purple and silver triple changer.

Titanium snickered at the thought. "He's going to be _pissed_."

"Yes, he will be," Wing agreed. "Fortunately I believe he's been civilized enough not to do more than grumble and glare."

"Still going to be funny to see his reaction." Titanium smirked. "Probably going to unnerve every other mech in the Citadel, too."

"Sounds interesting," Skydive commented after a moment. "We heard about that sparring match in Iacon. And something about both you and Drift sparring with Prowl later?"

"Oh yes, now _that_ was educational," Titanium grinned. "Not that sparring with Drift wasn't, but Prowl's a true Master of Circuit-Su with nearly as much variance in his additional moves as I have. It's been a _long_ time since someone beat me that solidly when I was really trying to win. It had nothing on the post-resignation match, though," he grinned even more. "You could hear Ratchet's cursing in Kaon."

"Gave the mates of the combatants a good chance to compare, too." GoldenRod winked at his mate cheekily. "And not just comparing technique, either."

Titanium mock-scowled. "So that's what all the snickering over there was about."

Fireflight giggled.

"Did you ever get Jazz in the ring?" Wing poked his head up from the circle of happy wings surrounding him. "He's _scary_ in a fight."

Titanium shook his helm. "Never got the chance. Prowl and I pretty thoroughly shredded each other that last time. I've seen Jazz practicing, but I've never sparred with him."

"It's a very different thing," Wing nodded. "Who was he sparring with?"

"One of the other Ops mechs... Not entirely sure which." Titanium flicked his wings in a shrug. "Was impressive to watch. Looked like a derivative of Pit Fighting, the style I master in. Quite a bit of difference, though."

"Ops mechs tended to be small, I think," Wing suggested. "Isn't Pit Fighting more for big, strong mecha, not the small, fast kind?"

"It wasn't pure Pit Fighting, but I could see that it evolved from it, to some degree. It's a fairly adaptive style," the big triple replied. "Still, very impressive to watch. And yes, pure Pit Fighting is for big mecha, like myself and Grimlock, even Megatron. Ask Atlas how many times I threw his sorry aft around the training arena before he left to study Metallikato."

Wing giggled. "I'd rather hear it from you. Much more entertaining."

Titanium laughed. "Because I make no attempt whatsoever to spare his pride. I'll tell you the highlights later." Red optics shifted to take in the five Aerials, listening with interest. "Any thoughts on what you five would do for a living in the city?"

The group looked at each other, confusion clear in their fields, faces and fields as they tried to even work out what that _meant_.

"You really have been Autobots your entire existence," Wing murmured. "Turn your hobbies into a function. You don't technically have to work, but it'll look bad on me if you don't at least try."

"I plan on setting up as an artist and armor-painter, Titan as a flight trainer," GoldenRod added, indicating himself and his bonded. "You could find work as couriers, or search and rescue, or many other options."

Silverbolt looked between his gestalt mates. "Skydive is the only one of us _with_ a hobby."

"I study military history," the black jet ducked his helm a bit.

Titanium looked thoughtful. "There are plenty of options available in the city. You should be able to find something that appeals to you. It's just a matter of looking."

Silverbolt nodded, but didn't say anything when Wing's field flickered.

"Since you haven't had an education and you're friendly, we can start there," Wing smiled at them. "They'll love having sparklings, even adult ones, around to teach."

"I'm guessing you five will be transmitting your resignations when we get to the spaceport, if you're serious about wanting to leave the war?" GoldenRod put his datapad aside.

"If Prowl will accept them," Silverbolt nodded, hugging Wing tightly. "You had to face him."

"For him to not accept them would be against Autobot ideals that every being has freedom of choice," Titanium pointed out. "The protests around our resignation were more about mechs believing we were defecting. I explained that we were leaving the fighting behind entirely; we would not fight against Autobot forces should we encounter them. Which is not likely to happen. We are going Neutral, not 'Con. Never 'Con."

Silverbolt nodded. "We'll transmit as soon as you let us. I want to wait for the acceptance ... I want to know we aren't listed as deserters."

"When we reach the spaceport we'll be in easier range... Won't have to wait forever to know the transmission has been received and get a reply." GoldenRod checked the computer console. "We should be able to transmit within the next metacycle or so, but I'd prefer to wait till we're closer to the port. Put more distance between us and the city, less likely for anyone to get ideas."

"All right," Silverbolt drew in a deep vent. "We'll wait. So ... tell us about living in New Crystal City."

"Wing's better to ask that question to... We haven't been there all that long," Titanium admitted. "But it's a beautiful place. We've mostly been hanging around the Knights Citadel, driving Atlas right up the wall and back down the other side."

Wing giggled. "Even if you don't work, minimal energon and shelter is provided by the city, though if you don't work, you won't have the fuel to fly often. My function as a Knight is my primary job and I have a stipend from that for the joors it takes every orn in training and chores. I also have better energon and quarters as part of the dead. It's really like being an Autobot that way. It's plenty, really, but sometimes I do errands for extra credits. I've been doing that a lot lately, so I can treat Drift and Windswept."

"Silverbolt's afraid of heights, so that probably wouldn't bother him as much, but the rest of us practically live in the air," Air Raid pointed out, ignoring Silverbolt's reaction to that.

"Fliers make fine, quick couriers and are best at city maintenance in high places," Titanium pointed out. "Just watch out for Fireflight."

"I'm not _that_ bad," the red jet objected. "I haven't fallen out of formation in over three metacycles."

"New traffic patterns, more fliers in the air than you're used to, windstorms, and sand dunes," Titanium replied. "A good half to two thirds of the city's population, I think, have flight capabilities. There aren't nearly that many flying Autobots. You'll have to be very careful about avoiding collisions while you're learning the rules of air roads."

"I can't say we've ever had air roads," Silverbolt admitted. "Just the basic rule of 'don't run into people or buildings.'"

"It's not that hard, and really, that's the big thing," Wing reassured them. "It's just more formalized since there are usually a couple thousand fliers in the air at any given time during the day."

"I don't think there are that many fliers _on_ Cybertron." Fireflight gasped.

"Like Earth roads, just in the air. Takes some getting used to. I've seen it before, so it wasn't that hard for me to adapt." Titanium shrugged. He sent the five a databurst with the basic rules of the air roads.

All five took a moment to processes that. "So mostly common sense," Silverbolt said. "Though we'll probably need some transponder upgrades for it."


	37. Those Left Behind

Windswept twitched his wings as he looked around at the market, rather pleased with himself. Drift was interested, even if he appeared bored and uncaring on the surface, and that alone would have made the trip worth it.

Never mind that the blue triple would probably have been able to handle exploring the market, at least for a little while, on his own. Asking Drift to escort him had been a way to get the white grounder out of the Citadel on his day off without making it look as though that had been Windswept's goal. A change of scenery would do both of them good, a small distraction from places that were familiar but empty now without the presence of their mate.

A brightly colored explosion caught Windswept's optic as another vendor opened up his stand for the day, the motion and color a backdrop expanded to display some of his wares. The blue mech made a note to come back to that one later if there was time before Drift got bored. Some of the things being laid out looked interesting.

A flick of his wing brushed the blue tip against Drift, granting him the grounder's attention. "Shall we go look?"

"Sure," Drift inclined his helm. He still felt a little weird about having Too Pure For This World with him given his rank, but he had been told in no uncertain terms that since they were already bonded, it was more important for him to be the blade's bearer than to not carry it as a mere Knight Initiate. It was far better for him to be mistaken for a full Knight of Light than to anger the Great Sword again.

His optics traced to where his mate was looking, taking in the decorative baubles. Not that many vorns ago he would have sneered at the very existence of such things. Now ... now he looked at them with an optic towards how one of his mates would like it. It felt weird, alien, but in an odd way good. All he needed to accept looking at trinkets was for Wing to trill happily and comment about how it showed he was adapting to the city. 

Windswept began to wander down the street, taking his time to stop and inspect anything that caught his attention, sometimes conversing with one of the vendors about their wares or the day. He lingered for a moment over some music files before passing them by. There were interesting, but not at the price being asked.

He had brought some credits with him that he had set aside without any real purpose other than recreation, and some of them were spent on a bookfile a little down the way.

The entire time he could feel Drift, sometimes in front of him, often lagging behind a bit, but never out of field reach. He could feel the curiosity, so different from other times they'd been in a market. Something uncomfortable to Drift, but something he was trying to welcome.

For the time being Windswept let it be, sincerely enjoying the slow changes in his mate. The things that were happening where not changing who Drift _was_ \- he was still the mech that Windswept had been gifted to all those vorns ago, but now he was a mech that was starting to see that there was life beyond hunting, fighting and killing. And that he could be a part of that life as well.

"There's a small restaurant on this side of the city that Thorn recommended, if we want to stop later." Windswept commented as they left a stand.

"Sure," Drift nodded, apparently giving absent consent, a tolerant humoring of his mate, but Windswept could feel that Drift was actually _interested_. "How are things going with him, anyway?"

"I may yet beat him at Sovereign." Windswept answered with good humor. "The last game drug on for several sittings, and both of us were actually trying to win."

The games had actually become a set thing with Thorn, the pair of them meeting in the dark jet's quarters or the common room to simply relax and talk. It was interesting in a very nice way to have someone that seemed to be genuinely interested in him without being interested in getting him in the berth.

"Good," Drift smiled faintly. It wasn't the first time since Wing left, but they had become depressingly rare. "He's a good mech, I think."

Windswept clamped down on the comment that he doubted Wing would have directed him towards anyone who wasn't, especially as long as ago as the white jet had introduced them.

"He said the last time we met that if I am set on creating skydance routines he knows one of the mecha who designs for an amateur team. He offered to introduce me after I've finished the basic courses I'm taking at the moment."

"You're enjoying them?" Drift focused on the subject he had no personal interest in if it wasn't one of his mates doing the dancing, but he was willing to make an effort to understand what made Windswept happy. "Even this basic stuff?"

"Yes. One of the things I'm studying now is how various frametypes tend to perceive sound vibrations. Understanding that allows for a more targeted audience sometimes." While a great deal of what he was doing would probably result in Drift being lost and bored after the first sentence or so, the blue mech had a feeling that even his mate would appreciate that particular angle of study.

"Like how you seem to feel music so much more now that you have wings?" Drift cocked his helm.

"Much more strongly, yes. I can now identify things that I wasn't aware I was feeling before, and feel a much wider range." Though he'd discovered that for a grounder he'd been able to pick up on more than average even before his upgrades.

"So these," he stepped right behind Windswept and slid his hands along the wide wings from joints to tips, "are good for more than flight and overloading you?" he purred right in Windswept's audio.

Windswept managed to not moan out loud, but it came at the price of being unable to stop the shiver that ran through his entire frame at the touch.

Drift's touch.

Venting forcefully he focused on answering the question in an attempt to ignore the tingles still spreading from the path his mate's hands had traveled. "Given my hobby and potential profession, yes, they are."

"So many uses," Drift's grin was audible and even more apparent in his field as he gave Windswept a bit of space to recover his composure. "Though I don't think I'll ever tire of watching what touch does."

"Don't want you to." Windswept admitted very quietly, daring to tilt his head around for a quick kiss. The entire point of coming to the market today had been to get out and about, something that wasn't going to last if they kept that up.

Drift's engine rumbled, purring at the statement and eager to encourage the kiss as he reached out to stroke those tempting wings again.

"Shopping." Windswept protested shakily when the kiss finally broke.

"All right," Drift's grin promised a long run of teasing until Windswept finally broke and begged to be taken.

"Later." Windswept promised, knowing that light in Drift's optics and edge in his field that promised an enjoyable evening and a deep recharge for the blue mech.

"As soon as we get home," Drift agreed, keeping his hands off for the moment, but he didn't hold his field back. "The entire Citadel will be reminded why you don't need anyone else."

"Don't want anyone else." Windswept smiled, setting off again through the growing crowd and feeling Drift plant himself firmly on his heels.

Several things caught Windswept's interest as they progressed through the market, but the blue mech was starting to grow disappointed with the selection until they turned a corner and stumbled upon an unusual sight in a Cybertronian market- a vendor of alien organics.

Excitement flared in Windswept's field as he hurried forward to investigate.

Drift chuckled and followed a bit more sedately as his optics swept over the selection, noting many familiar things.

While Windswept was clearly impressed with the selection that was available, some things he recognized from his travels with Drift and never thought that he would see again. But Wing's influence was clear when he ended up at the roses.

The orange-splashed white mech running the shop perked up at the pair's approach, stepping forward. He waited patiently as Windswept investigated the array of plants he was selling, specimens from a dozen different worlds. 

"Those are actually among the more popular plants," he commented, seeing Windswept's interest in the roses.

"You have some I've never seen before, even in the gardens." Windswept admitted, looking at several two-tone varieties.

The seller puffed up ever so slightly. "Since they were brought to the city, there has been much experimental crossbreeding of the different varieties to see what the results might be. Rarely have the results been failures." He eased an assortment of red roses to one side to expose a smaller bush covered with blossoms in a shade of lavender or lilac.

"Beautiful." Windswept complimented, completely sincere as he leaned in to study the blooms. With a sigh he backed up and indicated a selection of planters. "Unfortunately, I was really looking for one of those."

The seller nodded. "What size do you need? I have a variety of different sizes, for different varieties of plants and sizes of the plants in question." He indicated a table laden with planters, some plain, others tastefully yet elegantly decorated.

Windswept considered before selecting several small solid colored planters suitable for starter cuts and a larger one that would match the decor in Wing's quarters nicely. "Those will work well for my needs, I think."

The seller nodded, fetching the indicated items and handing them to the blue mech. The price he named for them was reasonable for the items, neither too high nor too low.

They seemed to be good quality, and Windswept was clearly pleased as he packed them away in his subspace. His optics drifted back to the variety of roses that were available, and several of the plants visible beyond them. "Do you set up here often?"

The seller nodded. "This is my usual spot. If I'm not here, you can find me at the city greenhouses."

"Thank you." Windswept was planning to track the seller down again, just as soon as he settled down and did some planning. Satisfied, he glanced at Drift. "Was there anything you wanted to look at?"

Drift shook his helm. "You know I kill anything I try to grow."

The comment earned him a laugh, since if by some miracle something in this stall had caught Drift's attention Windswept knew that the responsibility of caring for it would have fallen to him, for the sake of the plant. "I meant in the market in general. I've got everything I need."

And everything that he really had the credits to afford at the moment.

"If you're ever near the greenhouses, come in and ask for Sunburst," the seller told Windswept. "I'm working on cultivating more types of plants than I have table space for here." That said, he nodded to the two mechs, returning to where he'd been sitting prior to their arrival.

"A couple," Drift admitted to Windswept, his mind drifting back to a couple merchants with decorative offerings. His optics flitted to one particular rose bush, however, with small white flowers and a hint of bright red on the very tip of the pedals with a bright yellow center.

"Want to go back and look, or should we try that place that Thorn recommended?" He asked as made a note of the variety that had caught his mate's attention. If Drift had noticed that one on his own it might be a good candidate as a first introduction to their quarters.

It was another kind he had never seen before, most likely one of Sunbursts experimental results, and quite lovely, the colors in the natural light matching the scheme of their absent mate.

Drift hummed softly, thinking about it before turning with a gentle touch towards part of the market they'd explored already. "I think I'd like another look at a couple stalls."

Windswept's field brushed against him, delighted that his mate was taking an interest in something, anything, that wasn't training. "After you," he purred, following as Drift walked unerringly towards a stall that Windswept had noticed he'd glanced at a few more times than most. It was colorful and cheery, like so much in this city that the war never found, and filled with crystals, both natural and carved in many sizes. Some hummed, others glowed, though most were normal.

"Welcome." The vendor greeted them cheerily, his bulky frame an interesting contrast to his wares. "Is there something I can help you find today?"

"Perhaps," Drift allowed, making a show of looking without being terribly interested. "A few small crystals and harmonic sand for a garden display."

"Then you've come to the right place." The mech nodded agreeably, and Windswept realized that it was probably no accident that this particular display was within optic sight of the organic one.

"Did you have particular colors or properties in mind? And what grade of sand?"

"Three harmonic tones, very course grade," he actually drifted off a bit, digging through memories old enough they were rarely accessed anymore, then struggled a little more for the _words_ he was looking for. "A pale pink. Pink, white and brown or tan for the larger ones, but only the pink should grow."

The merchant considered for a moment, humming thoughtfully to himself before he selected several pink crystal spires from a sheltered display and set them out for Drift's inspection. "This variety will grow up with the proper care, and propagate outward from the base. Inert ones to compliment it are over there. I have everything from transparent crystal to opaque for the white, and a wide range of tan and brown as well. Will the display be inside, or exposed to the weather?"

"Inside. In my quarters," Drift told him as he considered the options and debated internally about the scale he wanted to deal with and just what it was going to look like. It was more than slightly insane, but it was also going to work for the 'contemplative hobby' he'd been ordered to take up. Anything he wanted to do, as long as it required care, patience and invoked thoughtfulness in him.

In his long existence, only one place and time had even come close to that. Yet a miniature crystal garden in the style of Japan during his short visit hadn't occurred to him until he'd passed this stall.

"Then the growing crystals are going to require a light source, either in a window or a lamp. I can sell you the additives they are going to need too, unless you want to put a base layer for them under the decorative one. The additives are easier." The merchant added. "But that also means that you can choose anything that catches your optics for the inert accents, since weathering won't be a factor."

"They'll have light," Drift nodded, humming as he selected two of the smaller pink crystals, each not quite the length of his hand and each showing the beginnings of a tree-like structure. "The additives, then." He turned his attention to the decorative crystals, and somewhat surprisingly, took just as much care in those. Not just for color, but shape.

He hadn't had more than a foggy idea when he walked in, but Windswept could see the plan as it went from a nebulous to clear and detailed in Drift's processor. His mate knew what he wanted, what he was going to do, and there was a particular set to his frame that marked it as a difficult path.

So he waited and watched, field full of peace and calm from where it touched Drift's, still with the edge of pleasure from watching his mate plan something new.

Eventually the crystals were set aside to be paid for and packaged, and the merchant pointed out the sand he already had on open display, pulling out more that he had hidden away underneath when it was clear that Drift was not enthusiastic about the shades of brown that were already out.

Once the shades and consistency were settled on the merchant paused thoughtfully. "What sort of dimensions were you planning to work with for the container? And have you ever worked with growing crystals? The pink ones are going to need to have a stable base."

"I haven't worked with them before," Drift admitted smoothly, though Windswept wasn't fooled about how much he hated saying it. "A desk display," he used his hands to mark out a space two-thirds the width of his chest and half as long.

The merchant nodded, pulling out a datachip and setting it aside to be packed with the crystals. "Complimentary with the purchase of the crystals. It has all the basic information you'll need to set them up and care for them as they grow."

He studied the sand, doing some calculations in his processor before he began to measure it out. "For the depth you are going to need, this should be a enough, with a bit to spare in case of spillage. And the growing crystals will incorporate some of it too, as they grow. Might alter the coloration slightly."

"Then some pink sand for the crystals to absorb," Drift shifted his design slightly. "I wish to maintain their color."

The merchant nodded and easily selected a pink that matched the growing crystals, measuring out a smaller amount for around the crystals. "Do you have a container already? I have some of those for sale as well, and more packed away if you don't like what is on display." He directed Drift's attention to the smaller display. The offerings ranged from simple metal trays to elaborately decorated and carved organic materials.

Both Drift's own athletics and those of the Citadel directed him towards the simpler, more functional designs, he didn't see any that really appealed to him. "Is bamboo known?" he glanced at the merchant, the English word converted to Cybertronian as smoothly as he could.

"Bamboo..." The merchant repeated, frowning in consideration. "Can you describe it? I'm not familiar with it, but I might have an acceptable substitute if I know what I am looking for."

Drift pulled up a file that contained a tray made of the stuff, something similar to what he was looking for, and the technical data he had on the strange grass from Earth, and sent it in a short databurst. "The look is more important than the material."

The merchant hummed, still thinking as he bent to sort through goods still packed away. "I have something things that mimic the texture and the proper color..." He set out a selection in some sort of glazed metal.

"I also have a line that resembles the shape in multiple colors made of either ceramic or carved organic materials." He added, setting out several that matched the color scheme of Drift's previous selections, and several that contrasted and complimented as well.

With a thoughtful hum, Drift did his chosen function due honor in his careful consideration before selecting a rectangular one that gradated from dark brown at the base to pale sandy tan at the top. While simple and functional in form and decoration, it was nicely finished with a light wood grade pattern. Not the cheapest, but not the most expensive either.

"Very nice." The merchant commented, adding it to everything else. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Drift gave the selection a last look. "I believe that will be all for today."

"Right." The merchant looked over everything again, naming a total as he began to wrap the more delicate items and placed them in containers.

Drift nodded his acceptance and offered his credit-stick, transferring the amount, several times what Windswept had paid for his planters, before slipping the stick into his subspace along with his purchases.

Windswept waited until Drift's purchase was complete and his order safety packed away before nudging his mate gently. "More you want to look at, or are you ready to leave?"

"I think I'm ready for that cafe Thorn mentioned," Drift took the hint that his mate was hungry without issue.

Windswept smiled and nuzzled him, nodding in thanks to the merchant as they turned to leave. "This way, he gave me directions."

He pinged them to Drift, even if there was little chance of them being separated. On the walk he spotted a security mech from the past and shivered, pressing closer to Drift, who tensed in response but relaxed when he followed Windswept's gaze to the cause.

The quiet reminder that everything was taken care of, that Windswept would not have to suffer being separated from his mates from that sort of confusion again, was enough to have the smaller mech completely settled by the time they reached the cafe.

Both paused, optics taking in the front, before Windswept tilted his helm to look at his mate. "So, shall we see if Thorn's recommendations are worth taking?"

"Unless you have a better idea?" Drift lifted an optic ridge, his field and tone full of playful arousal and general good humor. "Though I think I'd like to have you fully fueled before we head home."

"Both of us." Windswept agreed, allowing Drift to take the lead. The small blue mech had the feeling he was going to need the energy before the night was out.

And he was looking forward to it.

* * *

Windswept was playing a game of 'keep away from Drift's hands' as they neared the Citadel. A game they were both familiar with and had simple rules; rile Drift up, let him touch, but don't let him catch. Because by now if Drift caught him, he'd be up against the wall and moaning his mate's designation shamelessly until Drift roared in overload.

Windswept felt light fingers brush over his wing, hard enough to send shivers through his frame as he spun out of the way and his lips curled in a smile as they reached the base of the Citadel. Firing his thrusters he rose from the street, hovering over Drift's helm high enough so that the white grounder was forced to look up at him.

Blue optics centered on him, and Windswept couldn't help but preen just a little when it was clear that he had his mate's entire attention. "Meet you upstairs." He purred, low, seductive, and promising in a way that was only for Drift or Wing.

This time it was Drift's turn to shiver slightly at the promise. "Cheater," he chuckled before darting inside to get a lift.

By the time he arrived it was to find the main room of their quarters rearranged with his mate standing in the middle. No matter where Drift chose to observe from, the small blue mech was now the centerpiece of the room. His engine revved hard in approval as he stalked forward, his field and systems already hot from joors worth of light teasing and the promise of so much more.

His mate didn't wait on him, gliding smoothly forward to meet him as music started in the background. Dodging Drift's grab, Windswept circled his mate and nudged him pointedly in the direction of a chair before slipping back to the center of the room.

"Sit, stand...just watch." His tone making it clear that the end would be worth Drift's compliance with the request.

With no more prompting Drift settled in a plush chair that had been claimed with the two of them sitting together in mind. His optics locked onto his mate, taking in the stance and manner of the small mech as Windswept began to move.

The music shifted, taking on a deeper beat. Windswept paused, wings flaring wide as the music hit them before moving in time to each pulse of sound. 

The timing traveled through his entire frame as he danced, a rough and wild edge to the motions tailored to appeal entirely to the mech watching. He brushed close to the extended edge of Drift's field, reveling in the raw, pure _arousal-desire_ saturating it. Here and now, Drift trusted him enough to let go fully, to indulge himself when he was revved up enough.

He was getting there, but like every time they played this kind of game, Drift intended to hold back until they were both in such a state that there would be no holding back once they touched.

Windswept lost himself a little more in the music, never losing awareness of his mate and the hunger and growing desire he was feeding as he reached up, drawing attention to spread wings with hands as he traced the edges.

Hands that then traveled down his own frame, over his chest as his spark jumped in it's housing, down abdominal plating to tease every seam. The moans that threatened to escape him were quieted and contained, but there was no containing the sensations in his field, the pleasure of the touches and the added intensity of imagining it was Drift's hands on his frame, touching him that way.

The white frame he was so intent on shivered, a low sound of _want_ escaping Drift. Several attempts to stand were forcefully aborted. The longer Drift maintained his self-control the more intense the eventual interface would be for them both.

If it weren't for the music Windswept would have been concentrating very hard on what he was doing, the desire flaring in his field almost painful as his hands slipped lower, drawing attention to still covered valves.

One hand ran lightly around the forward cover, the owner unable to stifle a moan this time as it came away shiny with lubricant already seeping out around the edges. Raising his hand in such a way as to be sure to catch his mate's attention, Windswept ran his fingers over his chest.

A sound rumbled up from deep inside Drift as he suddenly launched himself forward, tackling his mate and shoving him to the ground on his back, wings spread and legs force apart as Drift's mouth crushed against Windswept's.

Windswept moaned into the kiss as he pinned down, everything from field to now exposed valves welcoming the aggressive attention of his mate.

They both wanted this, needed this.

No matter how hard he trained, no matter how solid his self-control, Drift was a spark meant for violence. It wasn't _healthy_ for him to deny that nature forever, yet as a Knight he had precious few outlets. Windswept had been created, quite literally, to indulge that violence in a way that was acceptable to all.

A thick, hard spike drove into Windswept's valve nearly as fast as Drift's field wrapped around his, meshing their sensor nets into a single entity with the first full-chassis rub.

Windswept keened under him, frame arching up to grind against the larger mech's, begging for more even as he was stretched and filled. Blue hands scrambled over Drift's plating, searching for an anchor as he was swept up in the need and desire.

It was only a few deep, hard thrusts before Drift bellowed and pumped hot, slick transfluid deep inside his mate. Yet he didn't slow down even as the overload took him completely.

The mech beneath him keened and writhed, the waves of intense pleasure spreading through him as he resisted his own overload in a very familiar dance. Shared pleasure, desire and need drawn out for as long as possible.

Hands pinned against his side, fingers twined with Drift's, Windswept didn't need any directions to roll his hips up as Drift pulled all the way out so he could sink into the blue jet's back valve with the same ferocity as before. Yet in the aggression that dominated Drift's entire awareness, Windswept felt the love, the joy that this _was_ something special between them and the _relief-gratitude_ that for these moments Drift didn't have to hide or control anything. Windswept would take it all, revel in it and adore Drift for trusting him enough to use him this way.

The second time the white mech overloaded was enough to drive Windswept over the edge, calling Drift's designation as his first overload washed through him in a tide of energy and pleasure that went far beyond the physical.

No matter what happened some day down the way, _this_ was what he had been created for, his first functioning, and he adored his mate for indulging him.

On top of him Drift was panting, still but not yet sated. The edge was smoothed as he claimed Windswept's mouth in a slightly more gentle kiss full of love and thanks for this.

The blue mech purred into the kiss, hands moving gently over Drift's frame, encouraging his mate to take what he needed.

There was a shudder, a moan, and a hint of uncertainty before Drift groaned into another kiss and unlocked his chest plates. He couldn't say it, but the desire and need was thick in his field.

Surprise flared in the blue mech's field, reaching all the way to his optics as he looked at his mate. Just as quickly came the _need-want_ to share with Drift, to give that last part to the of himself to the mech that had been the center of his existence for so long.

His chest plates slide away, exposing the blue light that was his very essence to the mech he trusted above all others. Over him ice blue optics looked down, the pale blue light reflecting off white and gold faceplates.

Those faceplates were open in the awe Drift felt as he took in the offering, untouched by even the light of his spark. Need overcame him quickly though, parting his chest plates to reveal the rich red spark that supported his frame and drove him to survive and excel.

"Yours." Windswept offered softly, sincerely and of his own free will. Wing had shown him that there was nothing to fear. There was no pain. His spark was not dirty or tainted, and worthy of the mech he loved. There was only joy and peace in sharing emotion and truth in a way more complete than he had ever imagined possible.

That certainty gave Drift enough strength to lower his chest, close enough for the first tendrils of blue and red to meet in a crackle of deep blue-green. He dragged Windswept's hands, their fingers still twined, next to the blue mech's helm and settled on his forearms. Despite the intense pleasure and trust it was a struggle for Drift not to lash out, to treat this as he always did with a merge he initiated; as an interrogation and act of violent dominance intended to hurt and humiliate, just as those that others initiated were meant to hurt and humiliate him.

Calm. Peace. Trust. Willing submission and an offering of anything Drift needed. _Everything_ , if he wanted.

~Yours.~ Was the faint whisper across the fragile connection.

A core-deep shudder took Drift and he moaned, lightly resting his forehelm against Windswept's. A few more strands connected, strengthening Windswept's understanding of his mate's long reluctance to spark merge. Like Drift's valve, touching sparks had never been an act of love, or even care. It had always meant pain, a lot of it.

Wing had changed that, just enough for the white grounder to risk this.

 _No pain_ was the gentle, wordless reply. A shared lesson they had both learned from the white jet.

 _No pain_ , echoed again encouragingly. Not between mates and loves.

"No pain," Drift whispered, reaffirming what they both now knew it should mean, should feel like. He lowered himself a little more, trembling in the effort it took to control his spark, yet with the absolute belief that the effort was well worth it. That in time he wouldn't have to struggle. He could learn to do this right, just as he had learned so many other skills.

Belief and support floated across the connection. Windswept believed in him. Trusted him. Wanted this merge with all of his spark.

Again Drift trembled, this time in awe at the trust and belief invested in him. Even after all the vorns they'd been together, Windswept's absolute trust and faith in him still made Drift's processors spin. Faced with that trust in a pure spark-to-spark connection it dragged a keen of _grief-relief_ from him as his spark moved a bit closer, brushing its rich red corona against the pale blue.

~Yes.~ There was no pressure, no push, only a welcoming place for Drift to go. Where he was wanted and adored as the connection strengthened, Windswept's hands tightening around Drift's. 

Ice blue optics turned off as Drift turned his full focus inward, to his spark and the agonizingly careful movement of his spark as his life force mingled with his mate's for the first time.

It was bliss, pure and unadulterated.

It was everything he had come to understand was possible and more.

Windswept moaned softly, nuzzling at Drift until the spark connection drowned out the physical touch, joy rising in his spark as the swirling energy intensified. From Drift emotions tumbled over the growing connection. Fear at hurting Windswept. Uncertainty if he should be doing this, or if it should remain Wing's special contact. Intense pleasure. Desire for more. Love of the mech he was merging with.

~Ours.~ He belonged to Drift. Belonged to Wing. His frame. His functioning. His spark were theirs. ~Love you. Believe.~

Urging Drift to believe in himself as Windswept believed in him as he was blinded by the pleasure and the rush of energy that was no longer, but radiating out from his very core in a growing wave.

The white mech gasped, trembling and shivering as the merged deepened. Yet he could surrender no more to the drive to lose himself fully in his mate. He wanted to give himself, to be accepted fully, but it wasn't in him. He still didn't feel safe enough to expose himself that fully ... not even to Windswept.

Unconscious acceptance flowed from Windswept, the blue mech lost in the pleasure and the sheer joy of touching his mate like this, his spark pulsing on the edge of overload. It was only a moment before Drift tumbled unresisting over the edge, dragging a very willing Windswept with him.

Slowly, Windswept rebooted to the limp weight of Drift on top of him, both their chests closed and sparks humming in contentment.

Peaceful optics focused on his mate's face, Windswept nuzzling at Drift briefly in affection when he found his hands still firmly tangled and restrained near his helm. Then he settled back, content to contemplate what he had learned of his mate and in no little awe of the gift he had just been given.


	38. Leaving the Past Behind

Roughly a vorn after leaving New Crystal City, the _Stellar Wind_ was approaching Cybertron.

There had been a short stop at a spaceport roughly halfway between the city of the Knights and the Transformer homeworld, during which messages had been transmitted back and forth from the ship to Cybertron. After taking on supplies and some consultation with the six passengers aboard, Titanium had set in a course for Cybertron itself.

GoldenRod sat at another console, contacting the spaceport for landing permission and an approach vector. There was some back-and-forth chatter before a vector was given, directing them to a section of the port for handling the larger personal spacecraft. The gold mech relayed the coordinates and approach vector to his mate, who entered them into the nav system.

"Here we go," Titanium muttered, starting the approach to the spaceport.

He was not happy about this in the least. The delay, to be honest, was relatively minor. But he trusted Prowl about as far as he could throw the _Stellar Wind_ when it came to not trying to convince the Aerialbots to remain Autobots. The young jets couldn't see it, couldn't see Prowl for the old master tactician he was. To them, he was a friend and comrade, someone to be trusted.

GoldenRod rose from his console, draping himself over his mate's shoulder. "This is going to be rough, especially on the Aerials."

Armor plates bristled across Titanium's shoulders and upper back, his wings hiking up higher. "Prowl's a sneaky glitch. The Aerials are young enough not to see that, and certainly young enough not to recognize emotional warfare. I'm betting on seeing a lot of it." The big mech vented heavily. "Let's get this over with..." 

Red optics flicked across the monitors as Titanium guided the ship into the spaceport, smaller craft and individual fliers darting out of the way. They could see the Autobot delegation waiting for them to one side of the docking bay as the _Stellar Wind_ slid into place and settled down. Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide, Springer, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Skyfire, Cloudraker and Dogfight were among the gathering. Some obviously part of the official contingent, others part of those who had no doubt heard and wanted to see the missing mecha.

Titanium growled low in his throat briefly as he powered down the engines, the familiar faint vibration of the massive drives fading as the engines shut down. GoldenRod stepped back to let his mate rise from the pilot's chair and head for the main airlock, detouring to the common room to round up their passengers.

Ruby optics settled on Wing. "I'd bet half the welcoming committee's here to see you."

The white jet squeaked in surprise, his golden optics brightening in excitement as he jumped to his pedes. "Who?"

All around him the gestalt also rose in various states of good humor and relaxed expectation of getting yelled at, a metacycle in the brig and a smooth exit from service.

"I'd say a good half the crew, and the rest are waiting to pounce at the base." Titanium flicked his wings, then looked slightly sadly at the Aerials before leading the way to the airlock. "Atlas will blow every fuse he's got if anything happens to you, please remember... I prefer all my limbs attached."

GoldenRod was waiting, one hand on the control panel, ready to open the hatch and extend the boarding ramp. Blue optics flicked over the group before he activated the controls.

"I can hold my own in a fight, you know," Wing huffed, though there was no actual displeasure in him. "Besides, none of them are out to hurt me."

The Autobot contingent shifted, displaying various states of eagerness, though, predictably, it was Sideswipe that broke rank first and all but rushed them, aiming right for Wing with a wide grin on his face.

"Fluttershy!" The red warrior cheered as he swept a now-grown Wing up and swung him around. "Do you have _any_ idea the chaos you caused in taking off?"

"'Fluttershy'?" GoldenRod repeated, raising an optic rim and trying his very best not to laugh. "Dare I ask?"

Titanium grinned in a manner that clearly said Dai Atlas and Axe would be hearing that nickname, then gave Prowl a suspicious look before ignoring the black and white. "If he wasn't aware before, he certainly is now!"

Wing just laughed, delighted at the greeting as he was put down and held at arm's length.

"You do look good," Sunstreaker admitted gruffly as several others joined Sideswipe in greeting the long absent jet and checking out Wing's adult look.

It also made it obvious who was strictly security and who was here to meet and greet. Prowl, Springer and Dogfight were the ones holding back, waiting for the chaos to settle.

"You should see him fly." There was admiration in Skydive's voice as the Aerialbots emerged from the ship. Titanium obligingly moved his bulk out of the way, moving to stand on GoldenRod's other side.

A flash of blue startled mechs into jumping as another mech appeared out of nowhere. Taller than Titanium by at least half a head, the brilliant white and charcoal mech with gold trim, sapphire-blue optics, and bright red faction insignias appeared out of nowhere. "Thought I recognized your ship!"

"Titanus, what have I told you about teleporting?" Prowl vented.

Titanus, predictably, ignored Prowl completely, wading through the sea of mechs to clasp forearms with Titanium before looking at Wing curiously. "Hello again, little flit. It's certainly been a while."

"That it has," Wing grinned up at him. "You haven't changed a bit."

No one noticed that Jazz had slipped from the rambunctious gathering to stand at Prowl's side, his attention on the Autobot SIC.

"You certainly have." Titanus eyed Wing's frame admiringly. "And nope, watching everyone jump is too entertaining. 'Sides, it gets the rookies used to teleports. Makes it easier to handle Skywarp that way."

The big teleporter nodded to the Aerialbots, then took one step back and disappeared again, startling the closest Autobots. Titanium shook his helm, glancing around the crowd as he made his way down the boarding ramp. It was only then that he noted the TIC speaking quietly to the SIC, or the way Prowl's doorwings slowly settled into a more normal angle as his anger was smoothed.

"If everyone is satisfied that Wing is indeed Wing," Prowl locked optics on the Aerialbots.

"We're coming, sir," Silverbolt inclined his helm and lead his gestalt forward.

"If you will follow Dogfight to the base, Ratchet will check you out," Prowl told them. "I expect you in my office when he releases you."

"Yes, sir," Silverbolt nodded and lifted off, clearing the ground-bound mecha before transforming to follow Dogfight, Springer lifting off to take up the rear.

"And so it begins," Titanium muttered, watching the Aerialbots leave. His wings drooped briefly, then he turned and began herding the whole swarm out of the spaceport while GoldenRod locked down the ship. "There'll be plenty of opportunities to swap stories and interrogate Wing back at the base! Shoo!"

"You two are no longer Autobots, and Wing is no longer a dependent," Prowl's voice was hard.

Red optics turned to the black-and-white, regarding Prowl the same way Titanium would regard some new species of bug. "Your point?"

"None of you are cleared to be on base," Icy blue optics locked on red, not the least afraid of him.

GoldenRod placed a hand on his mate's arm. "We'll stay aboard the ship."

Titanium snorted, turning his back on Prowl and opening a comm line to Wing. ::Prowl's being an ass; the three of us aren't allowed on base because none of us are Autobots. We'll be staying aboard the ship while we're on Cybertron.::

Wing glanced at Prowl, his optics flicking in surprise, then a sad understanding as Prowl and Jazz transformed to make their way back to base with their guards. ::I understand,:: he replied. ::Mind if I have Autobot company or should I meet them in town?::

::They're welcome aboard as long as they behave,:: Titanium replied as he walked back up the boarding ramp, reentering the ship. ::Anyone but Prowl.::

Wing made a few quick arrangements and followed Titanium and GoldenRod on board. "I don't think that'll be an issue. I respect his tactical and command abilities, but we were never friends. I don't think he does friends."

"He does 'pain in the aft' pretty well, though," Titanium muttered to himself, then yelped as GoldenRod smacked him.

"Prowl's never been his favorite mech," the gold-armored ex-Autobot told Wing.

"He's never been _anyone's_ favorite mech, except possibly Red Alert's," Wing chuckled. "You can't hate him that much, if you let him teach you."

Titanium snorted. "Considering how long I've been around, I have learned to tolerate mechs I don't like. To a point, anyway."

"Before this, what made you dislike him?" Wing asked, ever curious, as they entered the ship and mentally settled in for a metacycle long stay with a city outside for the exploring.

"A number of things... His attitude, for one. I'm fully aware of just how manipulative Prowl can be." The big triple glanced to the side at a flicker of green and amber. "He's not going to let the Aerials go, and he is going to fight dirty."

"I know," Wing murmured, his wings drooping. "I can't blame him either. I can hate it, but I can't hate _him_ for looking out for his own. I did the same when I converted Drift ... maybe what I did was worse."

"Doubt Drift will complain, considering the result." Titanium slid an arm around the smaller mech's shoulders, ignoring a green-and-amber flicker from another direction. "It'll be worse for the Aerials, since they're not expecting anything like what's going to happen."

"True," Wing nodded, leaning into the touch, grateful for the support even as he _needed_ to speak his guilt. "He understood manipulation very well, even if the form he practiced was more intimidation than processor games. Still, what I did was for myself more than the Knights, or even Drift. I _need_ him."

"I know," Titanium replied softly. He looked at Wing for a moment, then leaned over to gently scoop the white jet up. "Drift knows, too, I'm fairly sure. He won't hold it against you."

GoldenRod moved closer, touching the tip of his spoiler to a gold-trimmed, purple-marked wing. "I admit that I manipulated Titan here to keep him with me, after I met him. He never held it against me, thank Primus."

Wing shivered and rested his helm against Titan's chest, beyond grateful for the comfort. "He doesn't. He knows and he doesn't mind. He knew then, even if he didn't know why I needed to keep him close, much less why he couldn't make himself leave. I was still raised to be better than that," he shuddered, not even sure why all this was coming up _now_ of all times. "I knew what I should have done, and I couldn't."

Titanium made a deep purring sound as the trio reached the rec room, sitting down in one of the chairs and settling Wing on his lap. "You didn't mean harm. Drift's happy, and he's not angry with you about it."

"No, his spark, he says that he's grateful for what I did," Wing curled into the contact, the comfort of an elder, much as he sought out his creator's for comfort. "A Knight of Light should be better," he sighed, something relaxing inside him. "I guess I'm not done with my penance over that. I thought I'd come to terms with it."

"You're going to be beating yourself up over it for a long time," GoldenRod added softly, leaning over his mate's shoulder. "I did. It still bothers me sometimes, even though I know the big guy here forgave me a long time ago."

Titanium purred softly, holding Wing, offering the contact and comfort the young mech needed, not judging, merely listening.

Wing smiled at the golden mech. "A big part of Knight training, what we strive for, is to bring spark, processor and self-aware discipline in line and unified. I've finished the basic training, earned my right to bear a Great Sword twice, but I am far from a master. Even my creator struggles with his temper at times and he has been a full master, the Master of the Order, for a long time already. Most of us never stop working at it," he smiled faintly in a sort of dreamy wish. "It's said that when you fully master the art, you ascend to Primus among the stars, rather than extinguish and return to the Well."

Titanium's chuckle vibrated through his armor. "I'm well aware of Dai's temper; I admit to setting him off more than a few times when he and I served together." Light fingertips stroked over Wing's crest and audial flares. "You'll be a fine master." Long wings shifted. "I envy you that discipline. The art I master in is pure Pit Fighting, which is more about concentrated violence. I know enough Circuit-Su and informal Metallikato to get by, but most of the discipline has escaped me."

"It's not a functioning that many desire, and not many of them complete it to my level," Wing said gently. "Despite what you've seen, it's not an _easy_ existence." He went silent for a moment. "It's hard enough Axe and Dai Atlas both wanted me to choose _any_ other path. I know I hurt them that first time, but this is what I'm meant to be. What I've always meant to be. If you truly wish the discipline, you can learn it," Wing said without doubt. "If _Drift_ can become a Knight, you can learn the discipline."

"I was sparked a gladiator in Kaon's worst pits," Titanium pointed out. "I'm a survivor. Probably too old to become a Knight and bear a Great Sword, but I would like to learn." He chuckled again. "I won't be as easy to throw around as Drift is, just to warn you."

"You're a willing student, and you aren't learning the Art itself," Wing chuckled. "If you wanted to be a Knight, that requires convincing Dai Atlas that you're worthy of it. But this, I don't need to throw you around and I don't need permission. It's like when I started to train Drift. I wasn't teaching him Metallikato or training him to be a Knight. I was trying to civilize him, just a bit, by using the only language and law he knew."

"He's teasing you," GoldenRod chuckled. "Anything you have to teach him, he'll be happy to learn." The gold mech shifted, casually nudging aside a green cycle with amber trim that had been lurking behind his leg. The bike promptly darted behind another piece of furniture.

"So are you going to introduce me to your shy friend?" Wing finally gave in and asked.

"Might as well come out," Titanium called. "He's not going to bite you."

Not one but seven of the bikes eased into view, gathering into a clump before transforming together, all of them connecting to form a single, slim mech, slightly taller than Windswept but shorter than Wing or Drift. Silver optics met Wing's gold with shy curiosity.

"Wing, this is Spindrift, or Spin, as everyone calls him," GoldenRod introduced. "He had to sneak out of Iacon; normally he's not allowed out of the base."

"Hello, Spindrift," Wing smiled at him. "Why are you restricted to base?"

"Because I'm probably the most vulnerable mech on Cybertron." Spindrift sat gingerly on a chair. "My armor is very light, too light to protect me from even light weapons. I'm classed as a pseudo-gestalt or combiner, because my body is made up of seven components that connect together. My spark is split between all seven parts. For most Cybertronians, a destroyed limb is an inconvenience. For me, a destroyed limb can be a fatal injury. Because of that, I'm restricted to the base."

"He's more suited to your city than he is to Cybertron," GoldenRod murmured to Wing. "Basically, he's an Autobot just to keep him functional at all."

Wing nodded and opened a secure comm with Titanium and GoldenRod. ::Just how well do you know him?::

::Quite well. Spin's older than you are, and he's been here a long time. He wants to be able to do something, _anything_ , but his split spark and light armor make him too vulnerable for any kind of conflict. He has literally been locked in the Autobot base since they figured that out. Goldie and I have snuck him out and taken him on short trips a few times, always caught hell for it from stick-up-his-aft Prowl.:: Titanium shifted his wings.

::Spin's pretty much harmless,:: GoldenRod agreed. ::But the way they're keeping him restricted to the base is like keeping you in a cage, unable to get out and fly.::

Wing hummed his understanding. ::Just understand, it's _my_ spark on the line if he comes with us. I have to vouch for him, which means I have to take his punishments until he's adapted to the city and been accepted as a citizen. Just like Dai Atlas is going to take both of yours.::

::We understand,:: Titanium murmured.

Spindrift shifted, curling into the chair. He figured that something was up, but wasn't sure what.

GoldenRod's blue optics met Spindrift's silver. "When we head out again, you're coming with us. And Prowl can go frag himself."

"I will vouch for you when we get home," Wing added. "You'll have time to adapt and find work. If all goes well, you will have citizenship in a century."

Spindrift perked up. "I won't be trapped inside anymore?"

"Where we're going, your lack of armor won't matter. Nor will how vulnerable your split spark makes you. There won't be any reason to keep you locked inside," the gold mech replied.

Spindrift practically glowed at that.

"It's the truth," Wing nodded. "You'll have to be more careful than many with the sandstorms, but they're less dangerous than the acid rain here."

"I'll be careful." Spindrift nodded. The shy mech was visibly relaxing. "It'll be worth it, to get out of this place. Thank you."

Wing inclined his helm. "Adapt well. It is a very different existence than war. It is also a secret so it can remain so."

Spindrift leaned forward. "I've never been let anywhere near a battlefield, so I have no personal experience with war. I've seen what it leaves behind, but I have never fought. And I can keep a secret."

"I'd still prefer if you remained on the ship until we leave, if possible," Wing glanced at Titanium.

Titanium nodded. "Plenty of room aboard. As long as he lays low, no one should notice. If he goes back into the base now, he might not get another chance to get out."

"I don't have much in the way of personal stuff, and I'm in the habit of keeping it in subspace anyway." Spindrift relaxed, uncurling from the ball he'd settled into.

Wing nodded. "May I see? There is quite the list of prohibited items to bring to the city."

Spindrift slid off the chair and sidled over shyly. Perching on the arm of Titanium's chair, he showed Wing a datapad containing several bookfiles, a holocube of images from a hundred different planets, a small sculpture, and what appeared to be a Transformer-sized Earth-style snow globe. He also produced a small, very basic laser pistol, which he handed GoldenRod to be either locked in the ship's armory or otherwise disposed of.

"The pistol you won't get back, but the rest seems fine," Wing said with evident relief. "Did you travel before the war?"

"I don't _want_ it back," Spindrift replied firmly. "I wanted to travel, but I never got the chance. By the time my spark adapted to my adult frame... or frames, depending on how you look at it... The war had already flared up. Most of this I got when these two snuck me out of the base and took me on short trips with them. Though where either of them managed to find a snow globe that big..."

"We'll be in dock for a metacycle, possibly two, and it's a _long_ flight after that," Wing said, intentionally vague. "Please think about civilian work you can and would like to do. Things will go much smoother on arrival if I can introduce you as someone who will be productive sooner rather than later."

"I can be in seven places at once, though my components are only parts of my body and don't have their own individual forms." Spindrift frowned thoughtfully.

"With his speed, though, he'd be excellent for courier work," GoldenRod commented. "Multiple deliveries as long as no one minds his parts can't transform on their own."

"Can your components communicate without comms?" Wing asked even as he nodded acceptance of the suggestion. "Courier work would be easy to arrange and enough to satisfy the Council and Circle. You wouldn't have to always be a courier," he added. "It's just your starting function to earn your keep."

"Each of his four limbs, the two halves of his body, and the component that makes up his helm, neck, and upper chest contains a piece of his spark, so they are always in constant communication," Titanium explained. "When his parts separate they act like the separate components of a regular gestalt, only more closely bonded and with less independence. Each component has a separate processor and CPU, so they can act on their own of their own volition. They just don't have their own complete robot forms."

"That's better than I could explain it," Spindrift admitted. "But yes, when separate my components are always chattering to each other through the spark bond."

"Then there is definitely a place for you in emergency response too," Wing smiled. "Not a full time function, but something when you're needed. If comms aren't working, that ability can save lives. It's a nice stipend for being on call all the time too."

"I like the sound of that." Spindrift's smile was shy, but bright. "Being able to be out and about and doing something useful for once in my life..."

Wing actually _purred_. "That's a good attitude to have. It'll go a _long_ way to making the folks in charge happy to see you. Though I'm curious. Why wasn't your armor upgraded?"

"My frame's too light, I think... At least, that's what my creators were always saying. Heavy armor would slow me down, or put too much stress on my frame and spark. I was built for speed." Spindrift shifted. "It was a choice between speed and protection, and my creators chose to make me fast while sacrificing protection."

Wing nodded. "I was just curious, since it's done so much to harm you. That lack of protection won't matter much where we're going. What are your energon and maintenance needs?"

"My energon needs are slightly higher than one would expect for my size, since I have to split my fuel among seven tanks when I separate, but I'm fairly fuel-efficient. Maintenance-wise... Mostly the connection points that take the most wear and tear." Spindrift detached one leg to point out the relevant parts before reattaching the limb after Wing had a chance to scrutinize it.

"So somewhat specialized, but nothing a competent medic can't handle," Wing hummed. "Still, it's all likely lower than my needs and easily within what the city can provide. I wouldn't want to bring you, just to find out we can't provide what you require."

"I'm pretty sure I can wrangle his schematics out of Ratchet if I catch him in the right mood," GoldenRod piped up. "It might even be in the regular database."

"Anything you can get will be helpful, though we rebuilt Drift without even an original scan," Wing chuckled. "Don't put yourself too far out for it."

Spindrift seemed to have relaxed all the way. He'd need to work on his shyness, though.

GoldenRod nodded. "I'll see what I can do."


	39. Welcoming Wing Home

Two vorns without Wing. Drift and Windswept were coping, Axe was handling it as best he could, and Dai Atlas was on the verge of losing it. The blue triple changer was taking Wing's absence the hardest, and the other Knights were starting to surreptitiously avoid being around their leader for any real length of time. Drift, however, didn't have that option, and he was the one who ended up taking the brunt of the Circle leader's nerve-driven temper.

Finally, during a training session, Dai Atlas' nerves snapped. When Drift put a pede slightly out of place a sharp, heavy backhand sent the Initiate into the wall hard enough to make Drift's optics briefly fritz.

For a long moment Dai Atlas just stood there, venting heavily, before red optics flickered and he took a single step back. His wings flared partway out, then closed tight to his back again. White fingers slowly loosened from the tight fist they'd curled into.

The entire time Drift held perfectly still. There was absolutely no way to miss what was flashing through his processor. Turmoil. Submit to survive. Hold still and you _might_ not get hit again, this time hard enough to break armor.

It was a truly ugly comparison for the leader of the Circle of Light to be linked so quickly to the kind of mech he hated with a passion nearly matching Drift's.

A loud clang and Dai Atlas' yelp echoed through the training arena as Axe stalked over to give the larger mech a crack on the helm, snapping at him to keep his temper. Another step as Dai Atlas backed away from his mate, wary of another swat.

"He won't hit you again, Drift," Axe told the white mech, still glaring at his mate. "He'll be recharging on the floor for the next decaorn if he tries."

Drift nodded slowly, still cautious in his half-flashback to grimmer times. When that movement brought no reprimand he shifted to stand, flicking his wrist to send a bright red dot zipping across Dai Atlas' field of vision.

The flicker of light immediately caught Dai Atlas' attention. Red optics snapped to fix on it, wings slowly flaring out to their full span as if trying to intimidate the dot. A moment later the blue mech was after it, completely intent on catching that bright red dot as it zoomed up a wall.

Drift got fully to his pedes, focusing on keeping the dot where Dai Atlas could see it. He spared a raised optic ridge at Axe, who merely shrugged and tried not to snicker at his mate's antics.

Dai Atlas seemed to have forgotten completely about Drift, all his attention on The Dot. If it went up the wall, he took off after it, chasing it across the walls and ceiling, almost flying straight into the wall on several occasions. If it stayed still for a moment, he'd attempt to sneak up on it before pouncing. Fingers curled like claws, he was leaving scratch marks here and there in his attempts to catch that elusive red light.

Drift was trying hard to hold back the snickers when all three of their comms went off at the same moment.

::The _Stellar Wind_ has just made contact,:: Atl reported. ::Everyone is fine and with one extra on board.::

Distracted, Dai Atlas hit the wall, clinging with both hands and bracing his pedes, looking oddly like a very large blue spider. "One extra?" he rumbled, then realized just how silly he looked and let go of the wall, slowly dropping back to the floor, ruffling and resettling his armor as if trying to salvage his dignity.

"They're back." Axe's optics brightened.

"One extra, which is better than the five I was expecting," Drift chuckled as he turned the targeting laser off. "I'm expecting a blue streak heading for the landing pad now."

Dai Atlas shifted his wings. Axe sauntered over, planted one hand between blue shoulders and gave his mate a push. "You're just as eager to see Wing as Windswept and Drift and myself. There's no point in trying to get anything else done in here today. Let's get to the landing pad ourselves."

"Yes, fine. You're free for today," Dai Atlas glanced at Drift. "And tomorrow. I know you won't be in any condition to move, much less train."

Drift gave a low chuckle and grin that agreed fully before sauntering out of the training room. ::Atl, how long until they land?:::

Axe shook his helm with a chuckle, then pushed his mate again until the blue mech finally started moving. The pair exited the training room, making their way toward the landing pad at a more sedate pace, though anyone who looked hard enough could see Dai Atlas' wings twitching.

A joor later the _Stellar Wind_ broke the upper atmosphere and a small white dart separated from its upper mass, sweeping down at the speed of a missile towards the squadron of Knights that had lifted off to escort the ship, a true giant to them, in for a safe landing.

Dai Atlas and Axe stood side by side on the landing pad's edge, watching the massive ship and the swarm of small dots flying around it. Most of their attention was on one small white dot, darting and weaving among the others. The blue Knight's wings flared wide before reluctantly dropping back into their hold position. Dai Atlas wanted to fly up there to greet Wing, but he forcibly kept himself on the ground, waiting.

Nearby Windswept was waiting as well, his entire frame quivering in excitement and his optics only wandering from the spot in the sky that was Wing long enough to scan for Drift.

"No one would blame you, you know," Axe smiled gently at his mate, his own systems only barely kept on standby. He wanted to fly just as badly, but even this, watching from a distance, was good. "You can go join him, Windswept," he shifted his focus to the youngest resident of the Citadel. "There's little point for Drift to be here for another joor, really. It'll be longer before the ship lands."

Windswept took off the moment he realized the truth in Axe's words, choosing the most direct route he could manage that would take him to his mate.

Wide wings flared again. Dai Atlas debated briefly, then shrugged and took off, transforming to his own flight mode and racing up to join the others.

His comm crackled. ::We're back, Little Blue,:: Titanium chuckled. ::In one piece and everybody's fine.::

::And with _another_ passenger,:: the Knight grumbled at his old friend before that white dart spotted him and roared down at full speed.

::Creator!:: Wing's joyful cry was enough to distract all his grumbling as Wing spun around the giant form of Dai Atlas, then darted to spiral around Axe.

::Our passenger is harmless and wants to petition for residency,:: Titanium replied. ::Wing likes him. So relax, will you?::

Dai Atlas muttered something before turning his attention to Wing, trailing lazily as the small white jet circled around Axe. The black Knight was grinning hugely as he played at trying to catch their creation's small, sleek alt mode.

::I'm vouching for him, Master Dai Altas,:: Wing somehow managed to sound formal despite his antics.

Long white wings seemed to droop ever so slightly as Dai Atlas vented a huge sigh, resulting in a puff of hot air from his vents. ::Fine. I will see this new mech when the ship touches down.:: The blue jet veered away from the massive ship, joining his mate and creation in their playful game.

::Wing?:: Joyful, hopeful welcome spilled across the comm line to the white jet from where Windswept hovered on the edge of the playful game of tag, not yet bold enough to join in without invitation.

::Windswept!:: Wing's response was joyful, longing and utterly ecstatic as he darted over to dance around his mate, inviting the young jet to join the greeting. A game that had now expanded to include Windswept, the young mech dancing around Wing, not so much caring about catching him as simply wanting to remain as close to his mate as possible for a while.

As their fields brushed, mingled and stretched to maintain contact, it wasn't long before Windswept had to hold back a groan at the _arousal-desire-love_ pouring off Wing.

Suddenly the white jet transformed, giving a cooing trill to ask his mate to do the same. Startled, Windswept obeyed, curiosity bright in his optics as he settled back into root mood, hovering easily within reach of his mate. Without hesitation Wing grabbed him and pulled him flush against his chassis, his field giving no doubt as to just how _lonely_ it had been without his mates for so long as he kissed the blue jet hard.

Windswept moaned into the contact. He had not been alone, not like Wing had, but that had not meant that he had not missed his mate while the white jet had been absent. His field flared and blended with Wing's, full of welcome and joy and thick with eagerness to celebrate Wing's return, as Windswept had promised on that last night together.

Wing moaned and broke the kiss to lower his helm to nibble on Windswept's neck. At the same time he drew his lover higher, his field expressing an intent to interface.

There was a momentary flicker of uncertainty in Windswept's field, running through to Wing before he surrendered. Helm tipped back to expose more of his neck as Windswept's hand tightened on his lover, trusting.

"Love you, missed you, _want_ you," Wing shivered as his powerful engines easily carried them both. With the blue jet's arms around his neck, Wing's hands were free to explore and arouse as they climbed higher.

The sentiment was echoed deeply in his lover's field, how hard it had been missing and worrying about Wing himself, and watching Drift worry and pine after the white jet. "Love you." Windswept moaned, leaning in for another kiss as his field revealed just how much he wanted Wing, needed the reassurance of touch and physical grounding to confirm that this wasn't just a dream.

Slender white wings trembled in anticipation as Wing's spike cover slid open, exposing a spike that quickly pressurized between them. "Please, want you," Wing trembled in need.

"Yours." A simple reply that held layers of meaning, but boiled down to the fact that Windswept belonged to Wing and Drift, from the tips of his audio horns to the bottom of his pedes, and the bright spark between he was the white pair's. To claim, to hold, to own and love.

Valve cover slid away as Windswept angled his hips, offering himself to Wing with complete trust in his mate. With a groan Wing rocked his hips to sink inside the welcoming slick tightness. White arms tightened around the blue frame, treasuring as much as guiding the slow rocking as spike stretched and rubbed and pleasure saturated both mechs.

"Missed you so much." Windswept moaned as his valve rippled around the spike. Missed the gentle way of taking and sharing that was Wing, missed the soft, possessive field wrapped around him now. Selfishly missed the tangible reminder of his own worth that was being wrapped in the white mech's arms.

Whimpers, moans and low grunts echoed shamelessly between them, each sound and touch reinforcing what they meant to the other and the bliss that was tender sharing with a mate who relished it.

It came as little surprise that Wing trembled first, his long abstinence stealing what little ability he had to hold back. "So good," he moaned as his grip tightened, allowing him to thrust more firmly for the last few strokes before overload took him. His engines fired to full thrust with his keen, the acceleration driving him deeply into his mate as hot transfluid erupted from his spike to fill the valve embracing it.

As deeply in tune with his mate as Windswept was at the moment, and with no desire to hold anything back, the first rush of transfluid in his valve was enough, sending him over the edge as he clung to his mate.

Pleasure of every kind rushed through him and outward, through shared fields and physical touch, to wash over Wing and emphasize that he was back.

Through the haze of pleasure both jets were aware they were falling, engines cut out as the overload shattered their focus and system control. 

Wing recovered quickly though, the reflexes and protocols of a sparked stunt flier kicking in to level their flight path and stop their fall even before he was fully aware again.

He was gradually conscious of Windswept simply clinging to him, the slight hint of panic caused by his scrambling flight protocols nothing in the face of the trust that existed in his mate, and the semi-conscious knowledge that he was in Wing's arms and therefore _safe_.

"Thank you." Windswept murmured, nuzzling at his mate as both regained true awareness of their surroundings and circumstances, the blue mech still making no effort to resume flight under his own power.

 _Pleasure-happiness-contentment_ rippled outward from Wing and he nuzzled Windswept affectionately as they hovered midair, high above the city and desert. Slowly, half reluctant, Wing retracted his spike and closed the cover. "How about surprising Drift?" he purred playfully. "I doubt he'll be expecting me until after the _Stellar Wind_ lands."

Windswept smiled, the playful edge in his mate's field contagious. "Sounds like fun." He agreed, optics lighting up. "How do you want to surprise him? He probably decided to clean up before greeting you. He was in with your creators."

With a snicker Wing nuzzled him and began to lower their elevation. "You go in to help him clean up, distract him so I can sneak in and get my hands on him before he realizes I'm there too."

Windswept purred, sure that this was one time Drift would pleased with the surprise they were planning to spring on him. Returning the nuzzle, his hold on the white jet loosened reluctantly as his engines powered back up again.

"Go make him look good," Wing smiled warmly with a purr of his engines. "I'll be along soon."

Windswept laughed and stole a quick kiss before finally letting go of Wing to transform smoothly. Far enough away he threw in a roll for of joy on his way back to the Citadel, Wing's laugh at his antics making it all the more worth it.

He swept down, transforming smoothly to land on the balcony. Inside he could hear the washrack running and the sounds of a single mech moving under the solvent shower. Letting himself in he called Drift's designation as he approached the washracks, fair warning to his mate that there was someone else there. That was one thing that hadn't changed; Drift was still more likely than not to strike first and figure out who startled him after.

"We've got half a joor before they land," Drift called back to him, a strong harmonic of greeting and affectionate welcome in his voice.

"I know." Windswept paused outside the washracks, giving himself a quick once over to make sure there wasn't any evidence that would give the surprise away left on his chassis. "I was all the way out on the landing pad and waiting before someone pointed that out."

Satisfied, he slipped inside to join Drift. "After I found that out I'd thought I'd come back and help you so we could welcome him together. I-what happened?"

"Mmm?" Drift glanced at him before working out what the blue mech had seen. "Just training. Nothing self-repair won't fix."

Windswept stifled a sigh as he stepped forward to help, taking up a brush and quickly setting to work on some of the places it was hard for Drift to reach on his own. Light fingers wandered over the dent, making his own assessment. He didn't like what he found either. Drift had been _struck_ , hard. Not the kind of hit training produced, but the kind a fist-fight did.

"Let me put sealant on later? And that's deep enough you might let Redline take a look at it anyway." There was an unspoken 'please' under the request, hope that Drift would but not pushing too hard. He'd certainly seen Drift recover from worse on his own, but not when the white grounder was deliberately putting his frame through the kind of abuse it was suffering on a daily basis right now.

"All right," the white warrior vented a tolerant sigh even as his engine purred at the attention. As much of a front as Drift put up, and as willing as he was to suffer in silence, he _liked_ to be gently pushed as a reminder that someone cared enough to try to make sure he was well cared for.

"Thank you." Windswept murmured as he worked his way around to Drift's front, kissing his mate lightly before dropping down to concentrate on hips and thighs that still needed attention.

They both moved to make it easy, a pattern learned long ago and no longer thought about. Arousal flickered up in Drift's field, a reflex more than anything at having his mate kneeling in front of him and those knowing hands on his hips.

"Going to be so good to have him back," Drift moaned in anticipation.

"Very good." Windswept agreed softly, field flickering out with the shared knowledge of how much they had both missed Wing while he was away. "They brought a mech back with them. Wing is vouching for him."

That made Drift twitch, far more aware of what that meant than Windswept. "I hope he's not as difficult as I was. He faces enough penance as is."

"I don't know." Windswept answered, looking up at Drift as he tried to get a read on the reaction before dropping back down to finish.

"Doesn't really matter," Drift murmured, one hand moving down to stroke Windswept's audial fins. "Wing is Wing. There's no stopping him doing what he believes in."

"No." The blue mech agreed, leaning into the touch. And that was one of the reasons they both loved him so much. Really one of the reasons they were both here. Once the white jet had his spark set on something, not even death could sway him.

Another flare of arousal caressed them from Drift's field, this one spiking high enough to drag a sound of want from Drift. His touch shifted, fingers finding the most sensitive lines of Windswept's helm and stroking them. As always, he made no effort to hide his desires or when he wished to indulge them.

With a soft sound of mixed amusement and desire Windswept tossed aside the brush before settling both hands on Drift's hips and nuzzling at the white mech's spike cover suggestively. That was all it took for it to slide open, the spike behind it extending smoothly as Drift moaned in anticipation, his field flaring with a burst of excitement.

Windswept purred, playing like they had the time as he began by simply teasing at the spike before him, glossa traveling slowly from base to tip. He reveled in the shudders and growls of pleasure just as much as the hot burn of Drift's pleasure and desire in their mingled fields. Drift's hands on his helm were insistent, seeking to offer a little pleasure in return as his hips smoothly rocked into Windswept's skilled mouth.

As quietly as he could, Wing slipped into Drift and Windswept's quarters, creeping across the main room toward the washracks. The white jet peeked around the doorframe, making sure that Drift's back was to him, then crept up behind the white grounder.

White arms wrapped around Drift from behind, a familiar EM field melding with his. A wash of relief that was nearly painful for all three rippled out from the white grounder.

A moment later a very familiar and greatly missed voice purred in Drift's audial. "Miss me?"

"Too much," Drift moaned, leaning back against the frame of his standing lover, desiring that contact even more than the pure pleasure offered by his kneeling one.

Wing chirred, nuzzling against Drift. "I missed you, too..." His engines were already purring as he pressed against the white grounder.

Windswept hummed happily around Drift's spike, the relief and joy spreading from the two mechs most important to him soothing him in ways he couldn't put into words.

Tilting his helm, Wing nipped at Drift's helm and shoulder, rubbing his audial flare against a white spoiler. The white jet shifted his hips suggestively, his hands idly exploring and stroking his lover's chestplate.

With a shudder and whine of need, Drift slid his valve cover open, asking as much as offering as he pressed into all the touches to his frame from the two loves of his existence surrounding him.

Catching the shifting frames Windswept considered for a moment. Sliding his glossa along the length he stood slowly, hands working in counter to Wing's to tease and pleasure the white grounder between them. 

Drift leaned forward slightly, hands reaching out to brace himself against the wall as he surrendered completely. He moaned and shuddered, catching Windswept's mouth when it came close. The blue mech moaned into the kiss, leaning forward enough to rub their frames together and offer touch and pleasure as hand caressed Drift's spike.

Chirring softly, nuzzling Drift's helm, Wing released his spike. One hand slid down the white grounder's torso, black fingers slipping into Drift's valve, stroking teasingly over the sensitive platelets before sliding inside. A low, resonant moan escaped Drift as he trembled, his valve walls tightening around the intrusion as the slickness quickly increased.

Nimble fingers worked deeper into Drift's valve, finding and stroking every sensor node in reach. Wing pressed himself against Drift's back, his nacelles under white spaulders, pinions flattened to keep them out of the way. After a few kliks, the jet withdrew his hand with one last stroke over the sensor nodes, shifting his hips and slipping the tip of his spike into Drift's valve.

A low whine morphed into a moan as Drift rocked his hips back, seeking more contact. For once there was nothing holding him back, no objection reflexes made. Drift simply _wanted_. He wanted his mates, wanted this pleasure, wanted to feel Wing overload against him. He didn't care how.

Wing responded with a warm trill, pressing into Drift, sheathing his spike in his lover's valve. He wriggled his hips, rubbing his spike against the sensor nodes of the valve lining before settling into a rhythm, thrusting into Drift, nipping at the back of his neck, helm and spaulders. As good as being inside Drift felt, it was made far better by the intensity of unadulterated pleasure rolling off the grounder.

Blue hands dropped to work on Drift's spike, squeezing along the length to play with the tip, only to slide back down in a knowing touch that lit up every sensor along the way as Windswept continued to kiss and nip at his mates face and savor this rare side of Drift. The pleasure rolling off the grounder was intoxicating. His moans and shivers were even more so. There was nothing in this moment that wasn't perfect.

Drift kissed the mate in front of him almost blindly, shifting to free one hand from the wall to pull Windswept closer and stroke the blue mech's back.

Wing increased his pace, both hands roaming freely over both his mates, fingers leaving glistening trails of lubricant over white and blue armor. His engines revved, his nacelles still pressed against Drift's spaulders. Craning his neck, he pressed a kiss to Drift's cheek armor.

Drift's helm turned, catching Wing's mouth in a full kiss, moaning as the charge between them built. He was close, so very close. His fingers curled against the wall and Windswept's back as he trembled in need.

Windswept groaned, greedily absorbing any contact as he settled for lavishing attention on Drifts neck.

A sharp gasp escaped Drift, then a grunt as a hot splash of transfluid erupted against Windswept's hand and his valve clenched tightly around the spike sliding in and out of it.

Wing returned the kiss eagerly, his glossa exploring the depths of Drift's mouth. Slender white wings flared out as Drift's overload triggered Wing's, the white jet's frame arching against Drift's, keening into the white grounder's mouth as his transfluid spilled into his lover's valve. Energy crackled over his frame, leaping off onto Drift's armor.

Windswept leaned into his mates, extra support as they rode out the overload they had both needed so badly, understanding. A shiver ran through him, heat and lust triggered just by seeing the two of them together and feeling the edge of what they had shared.

Drift leaned against him, panting but far from spent. He nuzzled Windswept and murmured. "Care to get him between us?"

Windswept tilted his helm, catching Drift's lips in a kiss before answering. "I'm game."

"Wing?" Drift glanced back and was met with a grin and rumble of the jet's turbines as Wing drew his hips back, sliding out of Drift's valve with a moan.

The white jet purred and came around to nuzzle Windswept. "Which valve?" he asked, his hand sliding down the blue jet's abdominal plating.

"Front." Windswept answered instantly, wiggling around so he could kiss Wing as well. "Want to be able to see your faces."

With a deep purr Wing stepped forward, pressing Windswept against the wall and rubbing his full chassis against the blue jet's as they kissed and hands explored frantically.

Just beyond them Drift rumbled, his engine revving as he indulged in the sight of his mates exciting each other.

Hands that knew the other frame so well, where and how to touch to create the most pleasure. Windswept's hands teased along sensitive seams before he divided his attention, focusing on an offered wing with one hand while the other caressed the jet's spike.

"Ohhh yes," Wing moaned shamelessly. His hips rocked into the touch as his mouth worked on Windswept's throat. He moved a hand from wide blue wings to between blue thighs, teasing the rim of Windswept's front valve.

Blue pushed against touch as a sound of _want-need_ escaped Windswept and the touch on the white jet's spike became firmer. "Please."

Wing groaned and pressed his fingers inside that slick passage, probing and thrusting until they were both gasping in need. Abruptly Wing pulled his fingers out and pulled Windswept's hand away. In a move they were long familiar with both frames shifted. Windswept lifted a leg to wrap around Wing's hip while Wing lowered his hips slightly to sink into the offer valve in a single firm thrust that rocked them both.

Windswept wrapped his arms around the whiter jet's shoulders, steady and secure between his lover's frame and the wall. His keen of pleasure was muffled as Wing caught his lips in a kiss, as possessive and demanding as the spike in his valve and the hands on his frame.

Then Drift's field drew close and his hands closed on Wing's hips, stilling him for the moment it took Drift to drive his spike into the white jet's valve, eager and slick. A deep moan echoed over Windswept from them both as the familiar rhythm of the arrangement took over. As always, it was Drift's thrusts that guided the others.

Windswept moaned softly, kissing and nipping at Wing's face and neck as his hands played over spread wings and Drift's spaulders when he could reach, trying to share as much of the pleasure he was being given as possible. His field flared open and wove deeply with his lovers, already deeply content even among the midst of the pleasure that their world was whole and _right_ again.

"Not going away again," Wing nearly keened, desperate to reassure and be reassured that it was true.

"Not going to separate again," Drift growled, a fierce willingness to destroy the universe to get his way flaring into an incendiary inferno in his field. "Mine. Forever."

Windswept whimpered softly, clinging to Wing at the sudden shift in emotion, holding the white jet and trying to offer the comfort that was being sought as the fierce edge from Drift washed over them both.

Wing was back. They were together. That was enough for the moment, wasn't it? 

"Yes," Wing moaned and shuddered, answering them both. It was all it took to sooth Drift, at least enough that the building rage dissipated into a storm of another kind, one of pleasure and possessive desire.

 _Relief-love-joy_ flowed back as Windswept lifted his head to meet the Wing's lips, the possessiveness drawing a moan of bliss from the blue mech as his hands worked over the slender wings in reach.

Wing's bliss at being between his loves, and being filled and filling, at the joy and possessive desire that flowed so freely between them was nearly too much for him to stand. With a keen that was nearly a scream he overloaded, half surprised, when Drift's denta bit down on his neck.

Windswept shivered and moaned as Wing's overload washed over him and filled him, not enough tip him over the edge just yet, not when Drift was still pounding away. The moans, groans and grunts that filled the washrack were thick with desire and passion that only having all three of them together could garner.

Wing's charge began building against before his overload had even fully dissipated and he welcomed it.

The charge was eagerly encouraged by his mates, Windswept nipping at his face as neck as the blue mech's valve cycled and squeezed at his spike in growing need.

"Love you." Windswept moaned, and they understood without question that it was directed at both of the white mechs.

"Love you both," Wing moaned, shivering as Drift's charge built to the point he couldn't hold it back any more and roared a powerful overload in response.


	40. Designing a Gift

Windswept check the location one more time before setting down for a landing outside the section that contained some of the newest buildings, a set of several greenhouses that few mecha visited. He knew that Wing was right behind him. The white jet had been delighted with the new rose bushes that Windswept had added to the jet's quarters during his absence, and when Windswept had suggested checking out the greenhouse of the mecha that had sold him the planters and bred the roses that Drift had gone back and purchased, Wing had pounced on the chance.

From his point of view, even if they found nothing that caught their optics, it was a chance to go do something with Windswept that they both enjoyed outside of the Citadel. It was still a rare enough occurrence to be a treat itself.

With their pedes on the ground Wing caught Windswept in a light kiss before they entered the largest greenhouse, wingtip touching wing. It was labeled as 'Earth Fauna' and had it's origins courtesy of all the seeds and genetic samples that Wing had brought with him, from orchids to flowering bushes and roses to some of Earth's megafauna. It even included some massive redwoods that had been planted in one of the garden areas, trees so massive even Dai Atlas had been stunned by the heights they could achieve. The air of the greenhouse was perfumed by the scents of so many different plants.

It took a moment for anyone to notice them. Finally, one of the mechs who cared for the plants alongside Sunburst came over to greet the pair.

Windswept returned the greeting politely, calm and collected with his mate not more than an arms-length away, inspecting a bush flowering in an unusual number of colors. "We were looking for Sunburst, if he is around?"

The green mech smiled and nodded. "He's almost always here. Right now he's bringing out new seedlings from the controlled areas in the back. This way." He inclined his helm, waiting for the two fliers to tear their attention from the multicolored bush.

They followed along obediently, though it surely had to be comical to the mecha who worked in the greenhouse how one or the other of the jets would suddenly stop to inspect a plant before hurrying to catch up.

The mech led them through the greenhouse, past long tables overflowing with plants and blossoms in every color of the rainbow. The plants ranged all the way from the most exotic of orchids, all the way to common grass. Wing hadn't _meant_ to bring grass back with him, but the stuff was one tenacious plant, and grass seeds had managed to sneak into the white jet's stash. It had hybridized with just about everything it could possibly interbreed with and was growing in at least seven different colors, and several two- or even three-toned varieties. Off to one side were the long ornamental grasses, also growing in at least a half dozen different colors.

The aisle the green mech led them down was lined with young trees and bushes, one whole table dedicated to roses in every color of the rainbow and then some. Sunburst was visible about halfway down, carefully transplanting young plants into larger pots and positioning them under the lamps. He looked up as the group approached, smiling brightly.

"Sunburst," Wing smiled back. "You've done some amazing work."

The orange-splashed white mech's smile widened. "You brought back some amazing plants with you, and you know how much I love plants." He held up one of the plants he was repotting, a rose with flowers shading from sky-blue to lilac at the tips. "It takes some trial and error, but even the errors are never failures." Setting the plant carefully on the table, he dusted soil from his hands. "What brings you two here?"

"Wing saw the rose bush you sold our mate and was curious." Windswept explained with a small smile, the image of Drift walking in holding the plant and the slightly unsure expression on the white grounders face still clear in his processor. Wing had thought it was hysterically funny and terribly sweet all in the same moment.

"Which Windswept has been taking care of," Wing added, reassuring the gardener that the rose was indeed still alive.

Sunburst chuckled. "That particular plant was one of my more recent successes. It took a long time to get the dual colors to breed true. I am glad it's found a good home and is well cared for."

As the white and orange mech turned, something else was visible farther down the table behind him. A cluster of young trees, all in full bloom. Their branches were laden with flowers of delicate pale pink and white.

Wing had been admiring several other varieties of two-toned roses. He'd been about to ask Sunburst a question when the soft pinkness behind the gardener caught his optic. "You got the sakura to adapt, I see." He hurried over to have a look at the blooming trees, leaning close to admire the pale petals.

Sunburst puffed up a bit, proud of himself. "It wasn't easy. The air here is drier than they were used to, but I managed it, and they are taking to the local conditions very well."

Up close, the blooming flowers bore a distinct resemblance to the pink crystals Drift grew, being nearly the same color.

Windswept had followed his mate over, listening to the exchange as he studied the tree, lifting a hand he stopped just short of touching, glancing at Sunburst first. "May I?"

Sunburst nodded. "Of course."

"These are Japanese sakura, cherry trees famous for their flowers," Wing told Windswept, carefully touching a blossom with his fingertip. The scent of the flowers filled his intakes, the white jet inhaling deeply and then humming happily.

"You brought these back as well then." Windswept realized, recognizing Japan as a place that Drift had referenced more than once when he had spoken of his time on Earth. A place he actually seemed to enjoy a little.

The white jet nodded. "I brought back seeds or specimens of every Earth plant now grown here, from the redwoods to the grass. These were just too beautiful to not include."

"They are beautiful," Sunburst agreed. "Several mecha have taken one or two of them, as ornamental houseplants. There is one in one of the smaller gardens, grown to nearly twice your height. These are the young ones."

"Houseplants..." Windswept repeated, studying the plant and trying to imagine having one inside, especially when they could grow far taller than him. It would take quarters far larger than the ones he now shared with Drift, and he had come to realize that they had been very generous to the pair when they had been assigned the suite they occupied.

"They can be trained to stay small," Wing explained. "It involves careful trimming and pruning, and keeping them in a smaller pot. The humans had an art of keeping trees very small, but looking as if they were centuries old. This is similar."

"They also make excellent garden plants and centerpieces," Sunburst added.

"Maybe we could add one to the Citadel garden..." Windswept murmured, mostly to himself. It would make a nice retreat without being overpowering if they could find an out of the way corner to plant it.

Wing's optics lit up. "Or a small garden just of sakura... I think Drift would like that. What do you think?" He looked at the blue mech, wings almost vibrating against his back.

Soft blue optics settled on the white jet as Windswept realized that Wing was serious, and the small blue mech started to consider it as a real possibility. "Where?" He asked, pulling up an image of the Citadel gardens as he knew them.

Wing considered the image for a moment. "There's room for a small garden here, and there are sheltered areas around the towers as well." He pointed out the areas. "These spots are the best sheltered from the desert winds, and are easily accessible from the ground or the air." Slender wings fluttered with enthusiasm.

"Might a little more than just the trees..." Windswept suggested as he studied a spot that had caught his attention out of the ones that Wing had suggested. "Do you have anything else that would work with them?" He asked, glancing at Sunburst.

"There are grasses, both regular and ornamental, and there are quite a few other plants that would work well with them." Sunburst indicated a section of flowering bushes and plants.

"It would have to be open to all residents of the Citadel... A meditation garden, perhaps?" Wing was clearly making an effort to keep his wings folded.

Windswept nodded slowly. It would be worth having to share to have a piece of this close by. "Drift would love it. And...I don't think he would mind."

Wing cocked his helm, thinking for a moment. "Drift will be Knighted soon... This could be a Knighting present for him. We just have to keep it a secret until the right time." The white jet grinned. "Though that might be easier said than done... I'll bring the subject up with my creators later. Considering the prices, the whole Citadel will probably have to be in on it."

Windswept considered that and shrugged, wings twitching. "Might be easier than we think, so long as no one says anything specific in front of him. He doesn't spend a lot of time in the gardens as a rule right now anyway. If everyone just refers to it as a renovation project...he wouldn't think it out of the ordinary for me to be helping, or you."

The white jet nodded. "That's true." He grinned impishly. "I can't wait to see his expression when the garden is finished. His reaction will be quite interesting." He fluttered his wings happily, then glanced up at Sunburst, who was listening with interested amusement. "We have a plan... Shall we have a look around and decide what we'd like besides the sakura trees?" Golden optics glowed enthusiastically.

"Bushes." Windswept muttered, rather thinking to himself but already planning as the artistic side of him kicked in. "Nothing else flowering, though. And...benches?" He looked at Wing.

Wing nodded his agreement. "The benches can be decorated or plain... Maybe some grass around the trees, so mecha can sit under them?"

Sunburst indicated the next table. "There are quite a few kinds of non-flowering bushes to choose from."

Careful optic studied the bushes as Windswept commented. "You are going to want sturdy grass then."

Sunburst chuckled. "By now the not-so-sturdy kinds have been separated out as ornamental. It's a very resilient plant, and since I realized just how resilient I've been breeding it for a variety of purposes. Not that it took much effort to breed. Grass seems to breed and hybridize just fine on its own."

Wing snorted. "As long as the grass is green... I saw how many colors it comes in now." He bent to examine the bushes, gently touching the leaves.

"Those would look nice. So would these." Windswept indicated a dark green one with very small, broad leaves.

Sunburst was making notes on a datapad he produced from subspace. "Once you finish figuring out what you'd like, we can start figuring out how many plants you'd need for each of those available spaces, and go from there once you know which space Dai Atlas will let you have." The gardener smiled. "Wherever it ends up going, it is going to be impressive."

"The trees, the dark bushes, and whichever kind of grass Wing believes to be the proper shade of green and will hold up to traffic." Windswept informed him, optics dancing as he looked as his mate.

Wing nuzzled Windswept, purring happily. "It's going to be beautiful, and I think Drift will love it."

* * *

Several orns had passed since Wing and Windswept had begun planning a special garden as a present for Drift upon his Knighting. The white jet had managed to get the associated memories from Drift after some innocent prodding, and now he was going to talk to his creators about it.

Wing waited until Drift had fallen into recharge, then slipped away, trotting through the corridors to his creators' quarters. His wings flaring partway out in a determined stance, Wing knocked on their door, waiting for admittance.

It opened after a long enough delay that he knew he'd interrupted his creators doing _something_ , but Axe greeted him at the door with a smile and then a raised optic ridge before he stepped back and motioned the young jet in.

Dai Atlas was on his front, partially tucked up on a polishing bench. One wing was fully articulated, exposing his back and its half-polished state.

"The last time I saw that look, you wanted me to accept a Decepticon that didn't want to stay," Dai Atlas said cautiously.

"Nothing like that, I assure you." Wing all but bounced inside. He flared his wings again, letting his creators know that he had his spark set on what he was going to tell them, and woe be to anyone who tried to tell him "no".

"Then what are you planning?" Axe asked as he settled on Dai Atlas' far side and began to polish his back once more.

"A garden," the white jet replied, grinning at the looks he got from both his creators. "A small one, a gift for Drift upon his Knighting, but also a place for other Knights to meditate and relax. It's something I've been plotting with Windswept and Sunburst, but pulling it off requires your permission as well as help from the whole Citadel."

"A garden," Dai Atlas repeated. "What kind of garden?"

"You never did anything small," Axe chuckled with a shake of his helm.

"Sakura trees, sturdy grasses, and bushes. Like the gardens of Japan, on Earth. They were something Drift associates good memories with." Wing bounced over to show his creators the plants in question on his datapad. He grinned at Axe. "Nope, I haven't."

"And your plan to keep Drift from realizing what this is until you present it?" Dai Atlas asked as he studied the plan.

"It's ... different," Axe decided. "But it is in fashion since you brought those samples back."

"Drift doesn't spend much time in the existing gardens... If everyone refers to the construction as a renovation, he shouldn't think twice about it, or about Windswept and myself helping," Wing answered. "Windswept suggested that, and it sounds quite workable." He fluttered his wings, looking at Dai Atlas hopefully.

Dai Atlas hummed and considered the design. "Have you determined the cost of the plants?"

"It varies depending on the location and how many plants we would need. Not taking into account the benches and paths." Wing changed the display on the datapad, showing the pricing that each of the locations around the Citadel would require. "That's why we would need everyone's help for this. It would be open to everyone inside the Citadel. These locations are the best sheltered from the desert winds and the most easily accessible."

Axe nodded over his mate's shoulder.

"The labor will be done by Knights," Dai Atlas murmured, fiddling with the numbers based on his much more extensive knowledge of the skills already in the Citadel, or owed to it. "It would be popular with several younger Knights," he admitted. "Even if we prefer the more classical gardens of crystal and metal."

Wing bounced lightly on his pedes. "So it'll just be the materials and the plants. I can help with the maintenance once the garden is complete."

"I'm sure you can," Axe chuckled. "We'll find out how many other Knights have any skill with organic things."

"You may renovate this area," Dai Atlas decided. "Since it is your gift to Drift, it will be up to you to raise the funds, organize it and manage it."

"You can always ask for our help though," Axe spoke up, poking his mate.

"Yes," the blue and white mech agreed, rolling his optics. "You can always ask for help. It will mean more coming from you."

Wing chirred happily, launching himself to hug the blue mech. "Thank you!" 

Dai Atlas chuckled and hugged him in return. Letting go, Wing pounced on Axe, hugging the black mech as well.

Axe laughed and hugged him. "You just have to tell me how in Primus' name you got called Fluttershy."

Wing ducked his helm but grinned. "I'm honestly not sure. They just started calling me that when I started to fly."

The white jet's wings fluttered happily. Wing was trilling softly, all but bouncing in place. "Thank you for letting us do this," he chirped again, referring to himself and Windswept. Then he bounced out to tell the blue mech the good news.

"At least he didn't bring back anything living this time," Axe chuckled before the door closed.

"I heard that!" Wing called back at Axe, but didn't turn around, darting down the corridor.


	41. Welcoming a Knight

The low hum of voices could be heard well outside the great meeting hall of the Circle of Light as the gathered Knights conversed, awaiting the arrival of their leader and his mate. It was fairly common knowledge what was going on; Dai Atlas had been seen and heard in full formal mode, and word had spread fast.

Outside, Dai Atlas paused in front of the chamber's doors, looking toward his mate for a moment, then dropping his gaze to take in Wing, Drift and Windswept. It was rare for an outsider, even a mate or creation living in the Citadel, to be present for a meeting, but this one of those rare occasions when they were welcomed.

The triad was doing a fine job of looking calm and composed, the white mechs acting the perfect Knights, and Windswept was doing them all honor. The blue jet was visibly excited but quiet and fairly still. Their fields told a different story. Wing was completely jacked up and Windswept was too happy for words. Drift was somewhere between tired and completely centered. He knew no one would reject him effectively enough to exile him. He had too many supporters.

Dai Atlas drew in a deep breath, x-venting slowly. His field extended to brush against the mechs with him, full of _support-assurance_. After a moment to make sure he himself was centered, the cobalt-armored Knight opened the doors, leading the group into the chamber.

It was as full as it ever was; thirty-eight Knights and nearly a dozen dependants were already seated and solemn, though there was a definite buzz of happy excitement in the very air. For this presentation, only the Initiate and the Knight who was responsible for them were on the floor, so they waited there while Ax and Wing found their seats and Windswept settled in to stand behind Wing's chair. Next to the leader of the Order Drift was calm, sure of himself and his place as he rested his Great Sword tip down in front of him. It was an odd sensation; most Initiates were still something of a bundle of nerves, even those that were certain of their acceptance.

Dai Atlas chuckled to himself.

Drift was Drift. There was so little that could rattle the warrior, and after the existence he had survived Dai Atlas could hardly fault him his arrogance in this.

The cobalt mech straightened, one wing flickering before settling into place. Dai Atlas's gaze swept the assembled Knights. When he spoke, his words were formal.

"Knights of the Circle of Light, before you stands one who wishes to join our ranks. He has completed his training under myself and Axe, and has bonded his Great Sword. He has passed all challenges and tests set in his path." Dai Atlas' helm crests glittered golden as he turned, facing all of the gathered Knights before placing one hand on Drift's shoulder. "What say you, my fellow Knights? Shall the Initiate Drift join our ranks as a Knight of Light?"

One by one, beginning with Axe and Wing, the gathering added their hum to a chorus. One tone for acceptance, a dissonant one for rejection, a third that harmonized for acceptance with reservations.

Drift's welcome held more reservations than most, but not a single dissonant note was in the chamber when the last Knight voiced their choice.

Dai Atlas' optics glowed at the sound. He had expected there to be reservations; it was rare that a new Knight was welcomed without someone having reservations about it. There had never been an Initiate rejected at this stage, but there was always a first time for everything, and that was what had worried the big triple changer even if it didn't worry Drift.

Turning to face Drift, Dai Atlas began the Knights Creed, the long form, to which Drift would have to respond with "I do" or "I accept" at the appropriate places. Both Wing and Axe had coached the white grounder exhaustively in the proper order to the responses.

With every correct answer at the correct moment, Dai Atlas felt his pride swell. This was the type of training that Drift did the most poorly with; knowledge without a practical, physical application. He knew exactly how hard Drift had worked to get this right, and that he hadn't learned for himself. Drift had learned this because he couldn't stand to let Wing down, even in the tiny way of making a mistaken word.

Dai Atlas finished the Creed, Drift's last response trailing into silence. Wing was almost vibrating where he sat, trying his hardest to keep his wings folded. The cobalt mech could hear the faint rattle of wing panels against Wing's back plating.

The Knight leader placed both hands on Drift's shoulders, his ruby optics meeting Drift's icy blue and extending his field in welcome, flush with the pride he had in the younger mech. "Welcome to the Circle of Light."

"Thank you," Drift spoke the words that still didn't come very easily, but he returned the warmth in Dai Atlas' field. When the leader stepped back, Drift slid his Great Sword into the brackets on his back, relaxing as Too Pure for This World settled where it belonged.

Wing was almost beside himself with happiness, something that the quiet blue mech behind him reflected in full. Axe was grinning and not bothering to try and hide it. Dai Atlas bore a rare smile as he tilted his helm, indicating Drift's place in the chamber, next to Wing's. The new Knight didn't hesitate to take it, accepting the welcoming hug from his white mate and claiming a kiss as it was offered. 

It was a slight break in decorum that no one begrudged the pair. More than a few of the Knights grinned and revved engines or turbines at the pair as the kiss deepened. Predictable as always, Drift and Wing quickly lost track of where they were once they got their plating touching.

Dai Atlas cleared his vocalizer loudly, making Wing jump. The white jet gave his creator a sheepish look, riffling his wings a bit. The Circle leader shook his helm, amused. "That can wait until after the celebration, Wing."

It caused a wave of snickers to pass around the room, and didn't deter Drift from pressing close and twining his fingers with Wing's or from pulling Windswept into a quick kiss.

Like any other group of Cybertronians, the Knights took every opportunity offered for a party, though to Drift this party at its zenith wouldn't come close to what he had learned was a 'party'. There was high grade, music, dancing and good mood, but these mecha were more interested in savoring the high grade than getting overcharged. It was _weird_ to Drift, to have it so mellow ... and to really grasp that he was never going to get overcharged again. At least not intentionally.

This particular party was to celebrate Drift's becoming a true Knight of Light. All of the others were coming over to congratulate him. Wing was hovering around his mate, nearly literally from the hum of his nacelles, beaming with pride. Windswept was calmer on the outside, but no less proud of his mate's accomplishment. The others were all coming over in clumps, wanting to get their two cents in before Wing and Drift disappeared on them.

Axe was the last to offer his congratulations and took the opportunity to whisper that they were free to go now.

Wing bounced lightly on his pedes, his optics glowing brightly. Reaching out to take Drift's arm, he lightly tugged the white grounder toward the door. "C'mon!" he chirped. "Wind and I have a surprise for you!"

An optic ridge lifted. "That isn't in our quarters?"

Windswept rose to join them smoothly, his own field flaring with hope and excitement, though when Drift looked at him he only shook his helm and murmured. "You'll see."

Drift chuckled and leaned over to steal a quick kiss from Windswept before leaning against Wing and accepted being lead.

Wings fluttering with anticipation, Wing led Drift through the Citadel to a section close to the tower that held their quarters, where the "renovations" had been taking place. Stopping just out of sight of their destination, Wing turned to Drift, grinning brightly. "Turn off your optics?"

Windswept stepped up on Drift's other side, smiling and resting a hand lightly on the new Knight's arm as Drift did as Wing asked.

Wing chirred softly, taking Drift's hand and slowly leading the new Knight into the small garden. He led Drift just inside the garden, where the white grounder would be able to see all of it, then stepped to Drift's side, out of the way. "You can look now," he purred, waiting eagerly for Drift's reaction.

Windswept dropped back as Drift's optics came online, watching his mate hopefully and praying for a positive reaction. He and Wing had put their sparks into this project, with the help of the rest of the Citadel.

Ice blue optics lit, brightened, widened, and Drift jerked slightly as he took in the artistic mixture of Japanese stone garden, Chinese bamboo garden and sakura grove. Thick with bamboo groves, carefully sculpted bushes, gently running water, a pond and the pale pink blooming trees that had found a place in his spark during his short stay on Earth. It was very much like the oriental gardens showcase near Autobot City he had visited so often, but with an aesthetic that was all New Crystal City.

All that hit him in a fraction of a nanoklik as his field flared in surprise, then a form of _peace-joy-amazement_ that literally stole his voice.

Wing practically glowed, his wings fluttering happily. Chirring, the white jet nuzzled Drift's shoulder, drinking in his lover's reaction. "This is our gift to you," he murmured in Drift's audial.

Windswept moved closer, basking in Drift's reaction and clear pleasure. It was entirely the reaction he had been hoping for, and worth all of the work that had gone into it, both creating it and keeping it from Drift. "It was Wing's idea." He said told Drift quietly.

"It's ... magnificent," Drift finally managed, pulling both his mates close and kissing each in turn.

Wing purred into the kiss. His wings fluttered again, hearing a soft chuckle from behind them. Most of the other Knights had trailed them, all wanting to see Drift's reaction to his mates' gift, as almost all of them had helped in building the garden.

"My idea, but both of us designed it, and all of us helped build it," the white jet added. "Even Titan got involved, since his ground alt was built for hauling bulk cargo."

"We thought you might like a place where you could think in peace." Windswept smiled, his own optics taking in the garden slowly as he leaned against Drift, so terribly pleased that their mate was pleased.

"Thank you," Drift whispered, his processors still in awe as he took everything in. Yes, he could find peace here. A different kind than what he found in the berth, but just as attractive. It did not require anyone else to be there, or the expenditure of energy they might not have.

"You are very, very welcome." Wing leaned over to sneak another kiss.

"Glad you like it." Windswept sighed, resting his helm against Drift peacefully.


	42. Bonding a Trine

"Done."

The satisfied announcement was enough to bring Windswept completely back to the present as the tall gold mech stepped back. Flexing his wings to work out the stiffness that had formed from being still so long the small triple changer stood and turned to find his reflection.

The work was everything he had hoped and dreamed of after seeing Goldenrod work on his mates, the elegant lines flowing over his frame and accenting it very much to Windswept's advantage. With a small shake to settle his armor, and an attempt to settle his growing nerves, he turned back to the artist.

"Thank you."

The gold mech smiled as he carefully cleaned the slender brush he'd been using, putting the paint away. "You are very welcome. The patterns came out beautifully." He held up a smaller mirror so Windswept could see the elegant golden lines on the backs of his wings, waiting while the small blue mech admired the work. "It'll be dry very quickly, so you don't have to worry about it smearing."

Tilting his helm, GoldenRod listened to what was going on in the main room. "And it sounds like your mates are getting impatient." He waved for Windswept to precede him into the main living area, where his own mate was keeping an amused optic on Drift and Wing to make sure they didn't start anything to mess up their immaculate finishes.

They all knew that was a test of skill matched by very little. Fortunately Titanium had enough embarrassing stories of Dai Atlas and Axe's youth to last. Still, quelling the urge in two very tactile mates to touch was not easy.

With a final twitch of his wings Windswept obediently stepped into the main room, freezing as three set of optics locked on him. Drift's engine roared in approval and he made two steps forward, almost reaching out before he caught himself. Wing trilled with deep approval, his wings fluttering in excitement to see the finished work.

Titanium was lounging on the couch, nodding to Windswept. GoldenRod finished packing up his supplies, walking over to join his mate.

"Kept them out of trouble?" he murmured to the larger triple.

His mate's low laugh vibrated silver and purple armor. "If they can look at Atlas without snickering for the next vorn or so, I'll be surprised."

"Well?" Windswept asked, hesitant as he looked between his mates. While they had known some of the designs he had planned, neither of them had been shown the sketch of the finished product, or the liberties that Goldenrod had taken with the paint that was only for the ceremony.

"It's good we have a chaperon," Drift's rumble was deep and thick with lustful desire. His newly changed optics, now a deep red to match his spark, darkened even more as he twitched and tried to hold his place and not touch.

"One perfectly capable of picking you up by the scruff of the neck and keeping you apart if he has to," Titanium added lazily. "Atlas is on his way up. Try not to laugh at him too hard just yet."

"You look amazing," Wing added, his own systems as keyed up as Drift's.

"Thank you." Windswept smiled, much more at ease with both of his mates' verbal approval. Optics roamed the new lines tracings his mates' frames where his fingers could not, despite the urge to touch and feel.

GoldenRod puffed up ever so slightly, even though none of the trio were looking at him. Titanium grinned, reaching over to touch the tip of his mate's spoiler ever so gently.

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of Dai Atlas. The Knight leader's armor was polished and gleaming, though he lacked the added patterns of the three smaller mechs. Dai Atlas paused to take in the silver and gold patterns, a smile appearing on his face.

"We're ready," Wing chirped, his frame almost vibrating in excitement. As he walked past GoldenRod he reached out to clasp the taller mech's shoulder. "Thank you. It's a wonderful gift that will be enjoyed for many vorns to come."

The gold mech nodded to him, his blue optics glowing. "I'm glad you love it. It was a pleasure to do." He waited while Titanium got to his pedes, ignoring a _look_ from Dai Atlas when either Drift or Wing failed to completely hide a snicker.

"Everyone has gathered," Dai Atlas told the trio after a moment, one wing twitching behind his back. "Everything is ready." He smiled at the trio proudly.

"Than they shouldn't be kept waiting." Wing declared.

And it wasn't just for the sake of those who had come to attend and preside over the ceremony. Much longer without a distraction and there was no guarantee that mirror finished were going to remain in such condition, not among a trio of mates who it often seemed existed simply to touch.

Drift rumbled in agreement and followed the leadership out. He made a point of keeping more than two arm's lengths away from each of his mates as well, knowing that any closer was to invite a touch that wouldn't stop there. All three of them wanted to touch, to explore the new markings and simply enjoy the fact that they were together and whole.

"Soon," Wing trilled, encouraging all three of them to hold strong as they made their way to the Knight's meeting chamber. 

The large room was simply but meticulously decorated, every mark, hanging and item rich with meaning that Drift only half knew and was still very fresh knowledge for Windswept. What made Drift draw in a sharp vent and hold it until he could still his racing systems was the very tall, slender, all but unarmored mech of pure red standing in the center of the open floor. The only deviation in his color were the silver, black and golden glyphs in the language of the Primes, something that to Drift meant no more than the lines on his own form other than the knowledge that his markings were decorative, but those on the High Priest _meant_ something.

Windswept came closer, field reaching out to brush against Drift's in a sense of comfort-question as he took in the room, safe in the shadow of his mates. Drift reached back with reassurance that all was well.

Since Drift didn't have any creators to stand with him, Dai Atlas did, while Axe stood with Wing and Thorn came to stand with Windswept.

"Creations of Primus, we have gathered to bear witness to the oaths of this couple that will guide them through their existence as one spark in two frames," the priest spoke in the oldest dialect still understood anywhere, his voice rich with warmth and joy at the occasion he was officiating.

The clusters of Knights flowed into straight lines, all optics on the priest and the three young mechs before him. Soft murmurs rose from the watchers as they took in the beautiful patterns painted on the mechs about to bond, one or two glancing back at the golden mech standing next to the big purple and silver triple changer before returning their attention to the ceremony.

Wing trembled very slightly with excitement, barely managing to hold himself still. He'd waited so long for this, worked so hard to get Drift ready for this. Next to him Drift was steadier on the outside, but his field betrayed how eager he was for this step.

"Elders, present the creations who will be bonded this orn," the priest smiled at them.

Dai Atlas tilted his helm to Drift, walking with the white grounder to stand in front of the priest. "I present the adopted creation of myself and Axe, the Knight Drift."

Wing almost bounced forward with Axe, a soft murmur from the black mech getting the white jet to settle, albeit barely. "I present the creation of myself and Dai Atlas, the Knight Wing."

Thorn smiled and guided Windswept forward. "I stand as adopted kin to Windswept, mate of Drift," the slender black Knight with glowing red markings said smoothly before joining Dai Atlas and Axe on the sidelines with the other Knights and witnesses.

Windswept trembled slightly, partially from excitement and not a little afraid of standing with so many optics on him. Were it not for the presence of his mates and what this meant to all of them it was very likely he would have bolted for the door.

Then Wing's field brushed against his own, somehow filled with everything that the small mech _needed_ in the moment, and he settled, focus narrowing to the priest before him and the presence of the two most important mecha in his functioning standing next to him.

"Drift, do you come here of your own free will, uncoerced but by your spark?" The priest's pure white optics locked onto deep red.

"I do," Drift never looked away, offering the truth in his optics to the priest.

"Wing, do you come here of your own free will, uncoerced but by your spark?" The priest turned to Wing's golden optics.

"I do," Wing answered, making and holding optic contact, showing that he spoke the truth. From the sidelines, Axe smiled proudly.

"Windswept, do you come here of your own free will, uncoerced but by your spark?" Strong, bright white optics, the only color reserved in old times, found Windswept's light blue and seemed to see right through him to his very spark and beyond.

Blue optics stared in to the priest's for an extra moment, the small blue mech feeling as those he was preparing to set pede on an entirely new path.

"I do." Windswept replied, voice soft but the conviction heard throughout the entire room.

The priest offered him a smile before focusing, briefly, on Drift once more. "Do you all three understand that this bond will change you forever, leaving part of your spark with each your mates and taking part of their spark into your own," the priest focused on each of them in turn, judging their readiness in both their calmness and their unease. "Once created, it can never be broken. Not even after you pass from these frames."

"I understand," they responded in unison, sure of their choice. Reassurance swept away uncertainty. Love banished fear. For good and bad times, they were all prepared to stay with each other.

"Speak your vows before the gathering and Primus," they were instructed.

In the audience the serious couples, bonded or not, privately recited the vows they had spoken or would speak.

Taking a deep breath, Wing turned to face Drift, taking his mate's hands in his, golden optics meeting deep red. "To you, Drift, the reason I returned from the Well, I vow my loyalty and my respect. I vow to support you, to love you, to provide for you both physically and emotionally, from now until the day we return to the Well. I will put no one and nothing before you but my vows to the Circle of Light, and only those vows or Windswept will prevent me from joining you immediately when you extinguish."

Drift shuddered at the depth of the promise given to him, then inclined his head slowly in respectful acceptance of the vows and their conditions.

With a warm smile Wing turned to Windswept and reached for his hands as he looked directly into the young jet's optics. "To you, Windswept, who came to me as a condition of courting my love, my spark's resonance, I wish to say before all that I have come to truly love you and would welcome this bond and hold it dear even if it is just the two of us. To you, Windswept, my lovely, innocent, bright star, I vow my loyalty and my respect. I vow to support you, to love you, to provide for you both physically and emotionally, from now until the day we return to the Well. I will put no one and nothing before you but my vows to the Circle of Light, and only those vows or Drift will prevent me from joining you immediately when you extinguish."

The barest tightening of the fingers locked with Wing's as the Windswept looked into the optics of the white jet, the mech who could have taken the only thing that Windswept had truly cared about in life from him and instead had chosen to take Windswept into his life instead, and lowered his head in acknowledgement and thanks.

Drift trembled faintly before finding his voice and promptly threw the planned vows out as he reached for Wing's hands. "Wing, my reason to improve myself. My reason to exist. I will honor my vows to the Circle of Light over my vows to you, over my spark, with protest. All I have done since we first met I have done to honor you.

"To you, Wing, I pledge my loyalty, my respect, my love, my support in all you do and believe in. I will provide and protect you from all challenges thrown our way, in this frame and beyond." He paused, a small part of him aware of _who_ he was saying this before. If there were any words Primus would hear and hold him to, it would be these.

"I swear to remain with you until you travel to the Well and Primus, whether or not I wear a frame."

Wing could not help a soft, joyful chirr, much to his creators' amusement. He had optics only for Drift, and only a soft warning rumble from Axe kept him from launching himself into Drift's arms.

Around the room there were revs, rumbles and actual gasps of shock. This went well beyond the vows normally made. Even the high priest was slightly taken aback at the impact the vows could have. He gathered himself quickly, privately enchanted by the depth of emotion and honesty behind the words he could feel from Drift.

It was only with difficulty that the white pair separated their hands so Drift could take the blue ones. "Windswept, a gift I did not want, brought into functioning only to serve. When we met, I could only think of how to give you the free will that I have treasured more than life. Even as I grew to care for you I never expected you to stay with me once you were no longer bound to me."

Deep red optics dropped briefly before meeting light blue once more. "You taught me, even more than Wing, that serving another is not always an act of submission or failure. That it could be an act of caring as well, done freely and joyfully. Your existence in my functioning brought me home. By no act other than being yourself you gave me back Wing and you welcomed him into our lives. For that I can never thank you enough.

"To you, Windswept, I vow my loyalty and my respect. I vow to support you, to love you, to provide for you both physically and emotionally, from now until the day we return to the Well. I will put no one and nothing before you but my vows to the Circle of Light, and only those vows or Wing will prevent me from joining you immediately when you extinguish."

Windswept nodded gently, overjoyed beyond what any outsider could understand for what he had been given by Drift. He didn't bother letting go of his mate's hands, only waiting for the small nod from the priest to speak himself.

"Drift, guardian of my spark, know that it has never wanted to be anywhere but with you, before and after the choice was mine to make. You granted me the freedom to choose, and honored it in accepting the decision I made."

He paused, gathering himself to continue, his vows not quite as rigid as the ones required of the Knights. "To you. Drift, my reason for functioning, I offer my loyalty and respect. I pledge to support you, to love you, to provide for you both physically and emotionally, from now until the day we return to the Well. There is nothing and no one before you, and only Wing will stay my spark from joining yours when you extinguish."

Drift's engine rumbled in pleasure and he offered a rare, honest smile for his blue mate before he leaned in to kiss him, lightly and chastely. With a reluctant move he stepped away to allow Windswept to face Wing.

Windswept's hands rose to meet Wing's, looking into the golden optics and finding peace and acceptance there as their fingers twined together. "Wing, protector of my spark unexpected, who offered acceptance without judgment and an unselfish sharing of your bright spark, I can never thank you enough."

"To you, Wing, I offer my loyalty and respect. I pledge to support you, to love you, to provide for you both physically and emotionally, from now until the day we return to the Well. There is nothing and no one before you, and only Drift will stay my spark from joining yours when you extinguish."

Wing's smile was bright, his pleasure radiating to encompass all nearby.

The priest gave them a moment to face him, caught up nearly as much as those bonding in the intense emotions and bonds already between the three. He drew in a vent of air and spoke. "May Primus bless your union with a long peaceful functioning."

He turned his attention to the gathering. "Please wish them well so they may form the physical bond."

This time Wing simply could not restrain himself. Fortunately, he and Drift were standing so close that Wing's pouncing on his mate couldn't knock the white mech to the floor. A laugh rippled through the crowd, mingling with Axe's squawk of surprise as Wing latched onto Drift, embracing him tightly.

A low rumble of approval came from Drift as he wrapped his arms around Wing, relishing the joy radiating off his mate ... his _bonded_ , at least in law. With a single thought they extended an arm each for Windswept, asking their third mate to joint them.

The smaller frame slipped close to theirs, fitting against the white ones as though it had been made for it as fields blended together without conscious thought after so long. Pure. Right. Simple. Home.


	43. Epilog: Truth or Dare

Who had originally come up with the idea of a game of Truth or Dare, no one was quite sure. GoldenRod and Wing had eagerly seized on it, dragging their respective mates into it. Dai Atlas and Axe's involvement probably had something to do with blackmail, judging by Titanium's grin, but no one really bothered to ask.

The group gathered in the elder Knights' quarters because they had the most space. Titanium brought high grade with him while Wing raided his creators' stash, and Drift brought his own supply of grounder high grade. After some preparations (such as making sure Dai Atlas' turbines were disabled, much to the blue triple changer's annoyance and Axe's amusement), the group settled down.

"So who's going first?" Axe grinned at the group, his blue optics glittering in excitement at playing such a game with so many that would have good stories.

"Oldest first?" Drift lifted his cube to Titanium.

The big purple and silver mech chuckled, taking a drink from his own. Red optics glanced around the circle as he debated who to ask before settling on Axe. "What's the weirdest thing you've done, either deliberately or accidentally, since settling here?"

The black mech hummed as he thought back. "I'd have to say flying on my back around the city cavern while trying to sing Wing into recharge when he was a sparkling."

There was an "awwww" from both GoldenRod and Titanium while Drift smirked back a snicker.

Wing chuckled. "Better him than Dai... At least Axe can hold a pitch."

The largest Knight huffed but didn't contradict the statement.

Axe grinned and took a drink, his optics sliding over to Windswept. "Similar question. What's the weirdest thing you've witnessed or done?"

"Keeping in mind that my definition of weird is not like most..." Windswept pondered this for a moment, toying with his cube of mixed energon as his optics slid to his grounder bonded. "Probably having Drift bring home a plant because he wanted it in our quarters."

Wing trilled and leaned against Drift in mixed amusement and apology.

"Yes, I did that. Yes, I was feeling weird," Drift snorted even as he leaned into his bondmates and stroked their wings affectionately.

"Weird enough," GoldenRod replied from where he was sprawled next to his mate. "But the cute-weird kind, I'd think."

"So was Axe's," Drift chuckled and stole a kiss from Wing, then Windswept as they snuggled on a happy pile.

The wing petting was enough to distract Windswept from choosing a target until a snort of amusement caught the attention of all three. Light blue optics refocused with effort, skipping around the room to finally settle on Dai Atlas thoughtfully before taking a sip of energon. "If you could change anything that's happened since we came, what would it be?"

The Knight leader pondered for a long moment. "I can't really think of anything I would change. Two of you three can be exasperating pains in the aft now and then, but I wouldn't change anything." He sipped at his cube, then looked at Titanium. "Are you _ever_ going to drop that stupid nickname you stuck me with?"

"Not until the day I finally go offline," the older mech replied cheerfully. He tilted his helm toward Drift. "What would be the most overcharged you've ever gotten?"

"Nothing I'd do again," he prefaced with a pointed look at Wing and Windswept. "Deactivation, if some medic hadn't decided he wanted a charity case and dragged my stasis locked frame to a clinic before everything shut down for good."

Titanium winced. "Ouch..."

Windswept quivered where his frame leaned against his mates, the idea of such a thing happening, even so long ago, enough to bring an edge distress to his field. Wing leaned closer to Drift, stretching out one wing to touch his mate. He'd known, in the abstract way from their bonding, but to hear it said with such casual indifference was chilling in a new way.

Drift's field wrapped around them both, reassuring and trying to express how _different_ that time was, how long ago it had been. After kisses and touches of reassurance, Drift turned to look at GoldenRod. "What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done that most of us don't know about?"

The gold mech considered his options for a moment, then raised his chin defiantly, if playfully. "Dare."

Next to him, Titanium chuckled.

Drift's deep red optics glittered as he grinned in a decidedly nasty way. "I dare you to ... _not_ overload for the rest of the game."

The gold mech pouted at him while Titanium roared with laughter, GoldenRod switching his glare to his mate.

"You asked for it," the bigger mech chuckled, ignoring the resulting kick in the leg.

GoldenRod huffed. "And if I fail?"

"You do my chores for a metacycle," Drift's grin turned to a smirk.

"That's just mean." GoldenRod mock-sulked. His mate snickered at him while Dai Atlas hid a grin, and Axe didn't even bother trying to hide his smirk.

"You can always answer the question instead," Drift reminded him reasonably while smirking the entire time.

The gold mech stuck his glossa out at Drift, which made Titanium dissolve into laughter again. This time the kick knocked the bigger mech off the couch he'd been draped over, though Titanium didn't seem to care.

After a moment of scowling, GoldenRod shook himself, muttering something before looking over at Windswept. "What's your favorite thing about the city?"

The blue mech let out a frustrated sound, knowing that responding by answering his mates would be taking the easy way out. Which left him stuck debating between the public library, the symphony that he and Wing still attended on a regular basis, and the gardens he tended to frequent.

Finally he sighed. "The Citadel gardens."

"So hard to choose?" Drift nuzzled him, his field expressing his pleasure that there was so much his mate enjoyed about their home.

"Would be happy anywhere I was with you." Windswept replied, snuggling against Drift and stroking the slender white wing of his other mate when it came into reach.

"They are very relaxing," Dai Atlas agreed, splaying out his wings and settling more comfortably.

Realizing it was his turn again Windswept took another drink before addressing the large triple changer still on the floor. "What was the hardest thing to adjust to when you moved to the city?"

Still not bothering to get up, Titanium tilted his helm to regard the small mech thoughtfully. "It's a toss-up between staying in one place and not getting funny looks because of my red optics. One thing I _don't_ miss is getting shot at when nervous rookies mistook me for an enemy."

"It is nice to have the optics I'm meant to have," Drift admitted, snuggling close to his mates, all three with very different optics. "I missed them, I just never dared ask to have red while I was an Autobot."

"And I was just too old and stubborn to have mine changed just to make everybody else happy." Titanium shifted so that his back and wings were flat on the floor, his legs up on the couch, turning his helm to look at the others. His bright scarlet optics landed on Wing. "Just how did you get stuck with the nickname 'Fluttershy', anyway?"

"I honestly don't know," Wing admitted with a shake of his helm. "Fireflight started it when I first started to fly and it never left."

Titanium chuckled. "Random nickname, eh? And one that you'll probably never hear the end of."

"It's better than 'Little Blue'," Wing smirked at his creator.

Dai Atlas made a face at that nickname. "He's got a bigger flight mode. That's where it came from. I had hoped to hear the end of it when we left Cybertron, but no such luck."

"You would have, if you hadn't invited him to chat," Drift smirked at his leader, not the least bit sympathetic. "Axe didn't use it and he's the only one who knew."

Axe laughed at that. "I just didn't use it where anyone could _hear_ it." He smirked at his glowering mate. GoldenRod and Titanium both snickered.

"Same difference," Drift laughed. "No one else was going to learn from you."

"He has a point, creator," Wing grinned at Dai Atlas before focusing on GoldenRod. "So what's _you're_ embarrassing nic?"

"Anything profane that a mech can think of, usually coupled with something referring to my finish," GoldenRod replied promptly. "Also, 'gold-plated hellion', 'pain in the aft', and a few, less polite variations thereof." He made the air quote gestures around "polite".

Wing snickered. "All of which you're _proud_ of, I think."

GoldenRod puffed up proudly. "Damn right I am."

"Bet I got called far worse," Drift smirked.

Titanium chuckled, lifting a hand to point at his mate. "This mech has no shame. At all."

"Then none of his names are embarrassing," Wing grumbled.

"Not in the least," the gold mech nodded agreeably. Then he looked at Drift. "Okay, then, what are some of the things _you've_ been called?"

Both of the white grounder's mates felt the shift in him that marked Drift separating himself from the memories he was accessing. "Worthless slut/murderer/trash. Not worth the credits. Traitor. Nothing."

GoldenRod made a face at Drift. "Yup, definitely worse."

Windswept shifted to hug Drift, reassuring him through touch and flooding the bond with his adoration, love and the value Drift had to him. Drift murmured wordlessly and turned into the contact, hugging his blue mate back and nuzzling him, trying to assure him that it was the past, long past, and Drift no longer believed any of it no matter how much they hurt.

The other members of the group waited patiently, though eventually GoldenRod leaned over to poke at the vanes on the tip of Dai Atlas' nearer wing. Only to get his fingers swatted when the closed vane snapped open unexpectedly.

Drift didn't extract himself any more than he had to to take his drink and look at Axe. "Your turn. What's your most embarrassing nic?"

The black mech made a face. "Tangle. On one of my first flights I ran into a cable net and got so tangled up I literally could not move." He aimed a scowl at Titanium. "If you've still got pictures, I might have to hurt you."

Titanium snorted. "You can try."

"Oooo, pictures!" Wing turned pleading golden optics, perfected under Fireflight, on the giant purple and silver mech while Drift laughed and stole a kiss from Windswept.

Titanium smirked at Axe, sending Wing, Drift, and Windswept a databurst with a nicely-clear image of the much younger black mech completely snarled in cables and hanging upside-down.

"You should never have mentioned the pictures, Axe," GoldenRod teased. "They would've remained completely oblivious if you hadn't mentioned that. And you should assume that Titan here has pictures or video of every stupid thing you or Atlas has ever done."

Both older mechs groaned. 

"At least we have some to fight back with," Axe muttered. "So what's _you're_ most embarrassing nic?" He focused on Titanium.

"Loopy," was the response. "Because of how I behave when I've got painkillers or other medical programs or the like in my system. You've seen me coming out of repairs."

Axe and Dai Atlas snickered, remembering those times.

"You are entertaining when you're on heavy painkillers or sedatives," Axe smirked, sending a databurst to Wing, Drift and Windswept of a couple more memorable moments he had of the oldest of their gathering.

Drift snickered, then laughed, then completely lost it in howling laughter.

"You want entertaining, remember what Dai here acts like when he's good and plastered," Titanium retorted, rolling his optics as much he could. The oldest of the group waited for the laughter to stop, mock-scowling at Wing as the white jet fell onto the floor with helpless laughter.

"Can we not bring that up?" Dai Atlas groaned.

"Oh, but creator, I've never seen you seriously overcharged," Wing giggled as he tried to right himself with the help of his mates. "I never will either."

"I have, and I was the designated 'Atlas-wrangler' half the time." Titanium gave Wing a sidelong look. "Maybe I'll show you some of his highlights if you ask next time it's your turn."

The oldest of the group twitched his wings, glancing around the gathering. "So, Dai, done anything stupid since settling here?"

"Calling you," he retorted with a snort before turning serious. "Fighting with my only surviving creation when he brought his spark resonant home. It may not have changed what happened that day, but we wouldn't have parted so angry."

Titanium chuckled at the first comment, then let out a soft hum at the second. Wing crawled over to take his creator's hand, squeezing the larger white fingers reassuringly. He wasn't holding a grudge, and he'd forgiven the blue triple changer centuries ago.

"I know," Dai Atlas hugged Wing as Axe leaned over to hug them both. "It was still the most stupid thing I've done in a very long time. I knew better than to try and separate you after you told me that. I just couldn't accept what I saw."

Wing chirred, nuzzling into blue armor for a long moment. "In the end, it worked out okay... Though it probably didn't seem like it through most of it. I'm back, I have Drift back. Everything's fine." He fluttered his wings. "And now, we're trying to have fun. Your turn, creator."

Dai Atlas chuckled and rubbed Wing's helm affectionately. "GoldenRod, what's the weirdest interface you've ever had?"

Just at the subject Drift shivered faintly and Windswept pressed close to the disturbed Knight.

GoldenRod chuckled, pointing lazily at his mate. "Grounder and flying triple changer at fifty thousand feet. One of the times I was grateful for his clinginess. Though he was flying on his back with me on top."

Titanium purred at the memory, a sound that Wing and Windswept echoed as Wing came back to snuggle with his mates. Wing whispered something to Drift, which lightened his mood considerably.

"The sky does make for some of the most intense interfacing," Dai Atlas agreed with a rumble.

"Even more intense considering that I can't fly that high under my own power, so I was pretty much completely at his mercy. But he is my bondmate, so I trusted him completely." GoldenRod shivered all over. "I don't think I've ever overloaded that hard."

"Am up for a repeat any time you are," Titanium purred, reaching up to touch a gold-armored leg.

GoldenRod purred in response, then looked over at Wing. "So, what kind of trouble have you gotten into when you were growing up here?"

The white jet laughed. "What kind _haven't_ I gotten into? Have you seen the vid of Atlas trying to be the stern Order Master with a little white sparkling chirring, cooing and climbing up his leg?"

Titanium's audial antennae visibly perked up, mirroring the position of the audial panels under his helmet. "Heard about it, but we've never seen it."

GoldenRod nodded his agreement, his spoiler twitching with curiosity and interest.

Dai Atlas groaned and Axe laughed when Wing databurst Axe's passed-on memory to the pair with a wide grin.

Both mechs went silent for a moment as they viewed the memory, then Titanium dissolved into giggles that eventually turned into real laughter. It took him the better part of a breem to get himself back under control. GoldenRod wasn't in much better shape.

"That's _adorable_ ," Titanium wheezed, finally pulling himself back onto the couch and fishing out another cube of high grade. "That's completely adorable." His wings shifted into a position that indicated amusement with the faintest edge of jealousy.

"Now what's to be jealous over?" Dai Atlas frowned at the reaction.

"He's jealous that you've raised sparklings, something he's never had the opportunity to do," GoldenRod explained, getting his own laughter under control with an effort.

Titanium settled back onto the couch, managing to get his wings into a more neutral posture, taking a gulp of his high grade.

Dai Atlas' wings rose up in honest surprise, an expression Axe mirrored.

"You didn't?" Axe asked. "But you trained so many recruits. Why didn't they have you raise a few?"

The older mech shrugged a bit helplessly. "I'm not sure. Every time the chance came up, someone else was always picked. No one would ever say why I was always passed over. Then the war broke out, and it was just too dangerous."

The Knights nodded in partial understanding.

"You can raise one here, if you apply." Dai Atlas said with a touch of formality. "Perhaps not the next one we call," he gave a sideways glance at his own creation, "but one of the next few."

Titanium perked up at that. He was about to say something when GoldenRod poked him. 

"Game," the gold mech reminded the elder. "And it's Wing's turn."

The white jet grinned mischievously and looked at Titanium. "What's the worst thing you have vid of one of my creators doing?"

Ignoring the groans from the two mechs in question, Titanium considered for a moment. "I'd have to go with one of Atlas' drunken flights. Dai Atlas is a hyper drunk. Let's just say that drunken triple changers and ammo depots do not mix."

Drift sat fully upright, perking up with a grin that said he had his own stories on that count. "Do show," he purred.

With a wicked smirk at his glowering friend, Titanium obligingly sent the trio of young mechs the vid file of the whole thing from start to finish. It had finally taken a sniper with a stun rifle to subdue the drunken mech so he could be extracted without anything else getting blown up, and the whole escapade had been legendary for at least a millennia afterward.

Wing stared at his creator, dumbfounded, while Drift howled uncontrollably as he slowly slid to the floor.

Dai Atlas glared daggers at Titanium. "I'll get you for that."

The older mech's smirk widened. "I've already proven I can still throw your sorry aft around the training arena, so you're welcome to try," he retorted, then looked over at Wing, shrugging casually. "You did ask, Wing. And now you know why Knights don't get drunk."

"Actually that rule was in place long before I was trained," Dai Atlas countered. "Though it was extra incentive to me."

"Oh I wanted to know, just ... wow," Wing shook his head in amazement, then look at his white mate, who had all but curled into a ball of rattling armor as he tried to control his laughter. "It's not _that_ funny, love."

A burst of memories of other, less friendly triple changers in similar states burst over the bond in reply, causing Wing to start to snicker.

Titanium grinned at Wing. "Just you wait until you ask how Axe gets when he's that drunk." He ducked the pillow Axe threw at him, then looked down at Drift as the mech managed to drag himself upright. "So, what stupid things have you seen drunken triples doing?"

"A game they called 'Dare' between Astrotrain and Ramjet, was quite spectacular," his grin turned malicious. "They start out several miles apart and fly right for each other," he explained, describing the action with his hands. "The first to swerve loses, and neither one lost ... at least not until Megatron found out why they were in Hook's shop."

Titanium chortled. "I can imagine the fit he must've thrown. I've encountered both of them in battle... Ramjet tried to ram me once. Unfortunately for him, there was a cliff behind me, so you can guess what happened when I dodged. Not the brightest of mechs."

"No, he's not," Drift continued to chuckle as he found his seat and the happiness of Windswept's field at his good mood. "But what do you expect from a jet that thinks hitting things in jet mode is a prime tactic?"

"I think he's given himself permanent CPU damage." Titanium took another drink, optics glinting with amusement.

"I'm sure of it," Drift grinned. "So, Axe," he looked at the big black triple changer, his voice deceptively sweet. "What _are_ you like plastered?"

Axe scowled at him, a look that made most Knights scurry in the other direction but had never worked on Drift. "I am an overly affectionate drunk."

"To the point he'd have to be tied down to get him to keep his hands to himself," Titanium added under his breath, this time not managing to duck the cube thrown at him. "Ack!"

"Seriously?" Drift's bark of laughter was amused. "No mate then, or too much for him?"

"No mate then," Axe replied grumpily. He glared at Titanium. "Do you have _any_ idea what I'm going to do to you for this?"

The older mech smirked. "You can try. Not my fault if you get your skidplate kicked, though."

Titanium had sparred with both Dai Atlas and Axe several times since becoming a citizen of the city. He'd been right about Drift's reaction when the white grounder found out that Titanium was a match for Dai Atlas in swordfighting, and in pure unarmed styles the oldest of the group could still toss both Dai Atlas and Axe around the arena. The other Knights had been more than a little unnerved by that.

"Now they have incentive to improve," Drift snickered.

"GoldenRod," Axe grinned at him. "What kind of drunk are you?"

The gold mech grinned. "The chatty kind. Fortunately, Titan here is the lazy kind, so he doesn't mind letting me yap his audials off."

"Think Bluestreak," Titanium added, for the benefit of those who knew the talkative young Autobot. "Only less coherent."

Drift winced and Wing databurst a file of the gunner to his creators.

"I swear that mech talked in his recharge," Drift shook his helm. "He wasn't much of a talker last time I met him. War made him talk, and I'm pretty sure it shut him up too."

"Just keep giving him high grade and he'll pass out before your audials actually fall off your head." Titanium didn't bother trying to dodge the swat. 

GoldenRod hissed something at him that was too soft to hear. The older mech raised one hand, wiggling his fingers at the gold mech, who retreated just out of reach quickly enough to hint that he was, in fact, ticklish.

Wing snickered and Drift raised an optic ridge.

"Now that's a dangerous trait to have," Drift chuckled at GoldenRod.

"But oh so fun to play with," the gold mech's mate snickered. 

GoldenRod swatted him with a pillow. "I hate you." Ignoring the snickering, he looked around the group, pondering who to ask next. "Windswept, have you done anything silly since settling here?"

"Silly?" The smaller repeated, looking at his bondmates and received a flood of reassurance. He certainly didn't think he had, not willing to do anything that would bring shame to the mechs he loved with all his spark. He had been arrested, through no fault of his own, and was rather sure that didn't count. "I fell into recharge in one of the gardens once." He finally admitted, wondering if that was enough.

"He's entirely too conscious of our reputations," Wing hugged and nuzzled the blue triple changer. "More than we are."

GoldenRod smiled at him. "Cute-silly."

Dai Atlas smiled warmly at the much smaller blue mech.

Windswept purred, tilting his helm so the white jet could tease at his neck as blue optics settled on Titanium. "What is the most embarrassing thing your mate has talked you into doing?"

"It involved bright pink paint," Titanium replied. "And by 'bright', I mean obnoxious day-glo pink. I'm just glad we were on the ship in deep space instead of planetside at that point..."

"Details, mech. Details," Drift chided with a grin as he tugged Windswept close.

GoldenRod grinned wickedly, sending everyone an image of the big triple changer with all his purple and gold markings redone in bright pink, looking dubiously down at himself. It was Titanium's turn to sigh and wait for the laughing to die down.

Titanium waited until the giggling had stopped before looking over at Axe. "What pranks have you pulled on your mate recently?"

Bright blue optics glinted and a red dot suddenly appeared on the far wall to dart around.

Dai Atlas was suddenly intent on that red dot, his red optics following it as it moved across the wall. Relaxed wings slowly rose, as if trying to intimidate the dot.

Titanium laughed. "Always a good one. Just be careful with that, or you'll end up with a dent in the wall and him unconscious on the floor."

"It never gets old," the black triple changer chuckled.

"Effective in breaking his temper too," Drift snickered, watching in absolute fascination as the scene played out. "Wish I knew that trick as a Con."

Dai Atlas launched himself at the dot, chasing it across the wall. His fingers scrabbled like claws over the metal, trying to catch that red dot with an intensity usually reserved for an ancient nemesis.

Titanium laughed again. "Could always tell when there was a sniper around, back in the day... His troops learned very quickly to go for cover when he started acting like that."

"I bet," Drift laughed, red optics gleaming. "Just imagine Starscream going at it like that."

"Would not surprise me to find out that most of the 'Con forces would chase the laser pointer like that." GoldenRod helped himself to a sip of his mate's more potent high grade. "Would explain why they stopped using laser sights on their rifles."

"Nah, that was lack of funds and a statement that you didn't need one to aim," Drift grumbled, then shrugged. "You going to let him go?"

"Yes, yes," Axe grinned. "It's just so entertaining." With that he flicked the pointer off.

Dai Atlas stopped as the dot disappeared, his wings vibrating. Then he grumbled something and returned to his seat, glowering at everybody in general.

GoldenRod snorted. "That might explain why I've seen a few 'Cons who can't hit the broad side of a battleship..."

"Quite literally," Drift nodded. "I had to train and lead those numbnuts. I swear sometimes the safest place to be was right between both sides. Neither could hit a blasted thing most orns. There's a reason Cons liked to get close and personal. Most were built for brawn, not processors."

Titanium chuckled. "Certainly interesting from above. Makes for quite a few '...what the slag?' moments." He swiped his cube back from GoldenRod, who gave him a cheeky grin.

"So, GoldenRod," Axe grinned at the shameless mech. "What's the strangest thing you've ever seen Titan do of his own volition?"

"Swimming," the gold-armored mech replied. "Surprisingly enough for a mech who doesn't have an aquatic alt, he likes water. How he manages to not sink is still a mystery."

"Swimming?" Drift stared at him. "Seriously, you _swim_?"

Titanium nodded casually. "I swim. Don't knock it till you've actually tried it. What's wrong with liking water?"

"I was on Earth. I dealt with plenty of water," Drift made a face. "Salty water," he shivered. "Stuff's worse than acid rain."

Titanium shrugged. "Just make sure you shower after getting out of it. It never bothered me much. There are probably quite a few old pictures of me swimming with my wings sticking out of the water floating around on Earth."

GoldenRod chuckled. "One time a group of young humans swam out to him and were using his wingtips as diving platforms. I have pictures of that."

"Share, share!" Wing chirped, his own wings quivering with high grade enhanced excitement.

GoldenRod's blue optics sparkled as he settled back, sprawling out over his end of the couch. "You give me a show, and I'll show you the vid captures." He winked at the white jet.

"What _kind_ of show?" Wing chirred, nearly a purr, and leaned forward.

The gold mech considered for a moment, his optics roaming over Wing's two mates before settling on Drift, and a wicked smile appeared on GoldenRod's face. "Let's see you drive Drift wild just with touch," he purred.

The mech in question rumbled and leaned back, opening his frame for both display and to his mate.

All optics fixed on the pair, GoldenRod with anticipation, Titanium with curiosity and interest, Dai Atlas and Axe curiously. 

Wing chirred, fluttering his wings. He reached out to touch his white mate's spaulders, stroking his fingers along the seams, going for all the places he knew would bring the best reactions. Leaning forward, he nipped at Drift's audial finials, sliding the fingers of one hand into a seam to locate a sensor cluster.

Windswept took this in and snuggled in behind Drift, stroking his mate softly, a secondary contact as the white grounder moaned. Drift's armored loosened, inviting Wing to touch deeper as he turned his optics off to enjoy it fully.

Purring, Wing leaned in to nip and nuzzle at Drift's neck, sucking lightly on a control cable, earning him a moan as Drift's helm fell back and he pressed into the touch. As he ran his hands down the white grounder's body, seeking out the most sensitive points arousal flared in Drift's field and his hands twitched, wanting to return the touches and rile his lovers up just as much.

Black fingers slid into Drift's chest seam, Wing's other hand tracing the silver glyphs marking Drift as belonging to him and to Windswept. That was enough for Drift to shiver and groan with a white-hot flare of _pleasure-desire_ strong enough for the entire room to feel it.

Five pairs of optics watched with interest. GoldenRod was absently kneading the nearest part of his mate's armor, his left forearm. Axe was purring faintly, and Dai Atlas' wings were twitching. Titanium made a soft humming sound low in his throat as he watched. Behind Drift, Windswept was purring, thrilled to be even a small part of Drift's pleasure and the love surging towards him through their bond.

Black fingers slid down Drift's chest to his waist and hips, the white jet leaning close to trace the silver glyphs with the tip of his glossa. One nacelle revved against a white spaulder. Wing's palm ran over the plating of Drift's waist, gliding onto the white armor of his hips, fingertips finding all the hot spots but pointedly avoiding the fasted way to work Drift up: his spike cover.

This time Drift didn't fight his desire to touch when he moaned and shuddered in pleasure. His hands reached out to find Wing's helm, exploring it by touch.

The white jet let out a soft trill, leaning his helm into the dark fingers exploring its contours. He kissed his way down Drift's chest seam, purring loudly, his engines revving against his mate's armor. Sneaking into a transformation seam, Wing's fingers closed around and gently kneaded a sensor cluster before wiggling in deeper to reach the sensitive circuitry underneath.

A sharp gasp rewarded his efforts as Drift's field all but crackled with the building charge. The grounder pressed shamelessly into Wing's touch and Windswept's warmth, writhing faintly. Deep in his processor a connection was made to his first 'function' and he embraced it. These mecha weren't paying him to perform. They didn't care if he reacted a certain way or not. He didn't have to pretend. This moment, like so many others Wing had brought him, helped sooth those old pains, soften the blows the memories created.

Wing kissed his way back up Drift's chest, up along the chest seam and over the white grounder's neck to his jaw, then capturing Drift's lips in an intense kiss. The jet's engines roared against Drift's white armor. Black fingers slid into his chest seam, finding the sensors lurking under white plating and above his spark.

The bond between them thrummed with power, desire, intense pleasure as Drift kissed him back, his hands sliding down to pull Wing against him. Eventually black fingers found their way into wing joints, seeking to draw Wing's charge up enough to overload with him. It was a trick they'd learned was enough to make Windswept overload without even touching him if they focused the energy on the bond.

Wing flared open his wings for Drift's touch, the slender flight appendages pressing into Drift's hands. The white jet pressed against Drift, nacelles revving just short of actually taking off as he went right for the most sensitive seams and sensor clusters he'd found on the white grounder's body.

Glossa dueled, the kiss as passionate as the two mechs engaged in it. It was only a few more moments before Drift's roar and Wing's keen mingled with Windswept's cry of bliss, all three frames wiggling and writhing as the pleasure of overload swept through them.

Wing collapsed over Drift, ending up across the grounder's lap, wings still spread, venting heavily. It took him a moment to look over at GoldenRod, raising an optic rim.

"You three are beautiful together," the gold mech commented, yielding up the vid he'd taken of Titanium floating on the surface of a large lake, most of his body underwater, with the backs of his legs, most of his helm, both wings and the span of his back poking out. About a dozen young humans in bright swimsuits were running around on sun-warmed armor, running up the length of his wings to dive off the tips, yelling and laughing the whole time. Titanium was watching them over his shoulder with curious amusement.

"Nice," Wing commented before turning his helm for the kiss Drift offered, relinquishing only when Drift wanted to turn his helm to kiss Windswept.

GoldenRod nodded. "The adult humans saw the red optics and were pitching a fit on the shore till he lifted his wings enough to show off his insignias. That shut them up." He tilted his helm, looking over at Dai Atlas. A moment later his slight smile became a wicked grin. "Tell us, Atlas, what's the kinkiest thing you and your mate have ever done?"

"Oh my," the big blue and white mech hummed, thinking back over a long, long time with Axe and all they'd done.

"Not much we _haven't_ done," Axe chuckled, being unhelpful in suggesting many options over the bond.

"I think that has to be when I proposed," Dai Atlas decided with a chuckle. "I started to skydance in the middle of a battle. We ended up spark merging with anti-aerial rounds going off all around us."

GoldenRod raised his optic ridges. "Impressive. I can just imagine the ranting your superiors must have been doing while you two were going that." He looked at his own mate.

Titanium chuckled. "Don't look at me; I was elsewhere at the time, so I missed that part. Caught the tail end of the rant when I called in to report, though."

"You are officially insane," Drift shook his helm with a chuckle.

"It was all well worth it," Dai Atlas rumbled.

"You have to admit, it's one pit of a courting display," Axe grinned. "Impressed me."

"I heard it was impressive... I heard Atlas almost got shot down a few times, too." Titanium shrugged. "I never really got the chance to fly for Goldie."

Wing stared at his creators for a long moment. "Wow. Just wow."

"No reason you can't do it now," Drift pointed out, nuzzling his mates affectionately. "Sure, you came here bonded, but you could always have a courting and ceremony under local laws too."

"You're such a hidden romantic," Wing giggled into the kiss trying to silence him.

"He has a point," Dai Atlas grinned. "Maybe I should insist on the formalities before you can raise one of our sparklings."

"I wouldn't mind at all," Titanium replied. "Once I'm sober again, of course. I tend to fly into things when I'm drunk." He waved his cube for emphasis.

"He's going to show off every skydancing trick he's ever learned." GoldenRod regarded his mate with a warm smile.

"Should be fun to watch," Wing grinned. "Don't forget that we have a skydancing composer here," he nuzzled Windswept, who squeaked and twitched, optics turning away shyly at the implied compliment.

"I can sky-write, too," Titanium offered. "Will make it even more interesting."

"So, my dear creation," Dai Atlas focused on Wing. "What's the most embarrassing interfacing event you've been involved in?"

Slender white wings fluttered. "Dare!"

"Mmm," the giant leaned back and considered the options. He reached into his subspace and brought out a small box of high-grade jellies. "I think you know what to do with one of these and Windswept," he grinned at the much smaller jet.

Wing's pinions stood on end. "How did you...?" Disentangling himself from his mates, he walked over to take the small box.

"Do you really think you're the only one who likes to eat them out of a mate?" Axe laughed as Windswept and Drift shifted around so the blue triple changer was in Drift's lap. "We didn't _know_ , but thanks for the confirmation."

If Wing could have blushed, his face would have been the same color as a ripe Earth tomato. Muttering something inaudible, he returned to his mates, opening the box to pull out one of the jellies.

GoldenRod and Titanium watched with interest. This was something they'd never had the opportunity to try, since for most of their mated life those jellies had been both incredibly rare and hellishly expensive. Both made a mental note to get their hands on some, grinning at each other as they realized they were both thinking the same thing.

With a grin of his own Axe gave them a quick databurst of all the shops that made the various types, the hours, costs and tricks for actually getting some.

Titanium flicked his wings at Axe in silent thanks, then turned his attention back to the real action.

His helm turned so kissing Drift was easier, Windswept moaned, shivering in anticipation and the excitement flowing freely from both his mates. Drift spread his legs, drawing Windswept's apart.

Wing lifted out one of the jellies, sidling closer. He ran it lightly down Windswept's chest and torso to circle the rim of the small blue mech's front valve, purring all the while. As always, the blue jet was slick, ready and eager, but it was what he saw just beyond that made Wing pause briefly to enjoy the view.

Drift's spike was already seated in Windswept's back valve. Though both of them were still, Wing could feel the pleasure in both of them now that he looked for it.

Purring, the jet inserted the jelly, leaning forward to kiss Windswept deeply and thoroughly. Fluttering his wings playfully and invitingly, Wing kissed and licked his way down Windswept's body, his palms gliding over sleek blue armor, until his lips brushed the soft platelets surrounding Wind's front valve.

The blue jet was already moaning, his entire frame quivering in anticipation. Across the bond he pleaded wordlessly, sharing the intense pleasure of Drift fully seated in one valve and the tingling jolts the slowly dissolving energon jelly sent through the other. Even the pleasure of Wing's x-vents was relished and shared.

Wing purred in response, nuzzling against Windswept for a moment before his glossa pushed through the platelets into the small triple changer's valve, seeking out and finding the sensor nodes. The taste of Windswept and the high-grade jelly drew a purring trill from the white jet. Resting his hands on Windswept's hips, he let his optics dim as he concentrated fully on what he was doing.

It was intense. The taste of his love mingled with high grade jelly. The arousal and images of himself pleasuring Windswept from Drift's viewpoint. The pleasured sounds and sensations from Windswept at his actions.

There was nothing to compare to what the bond provided. Not only did he know what he was providing, but he could feel what it _felt_ like to the mecha who meant everything to him.

Wing's purr increased in volume, his nacelles revving against the blue mech's legs. Inching closer, he shifted position ever so slightly, his glossa sliding in deeper, stroking over the sensor nodes. The taste was divine, and he eagerly shared it with both of his mates.

It caused Windswept to let out a soft cry, his frame trembling as much from the pleasure his mates were taking as what they were giving. He was the center of their attention, his pleasure their intent, and they took such pleasure in doing it Windswept could do nothing but enjoy it all.

The walls of Windswept's valve quivered and constricted, caressing Wing's glossa, trying to draw him in deeper.

Wing pressed as close as he could possibly get, his glossa pressing in as far as possible, lapping up the remnants off the jelly while going after the deepest sensors he could reach. The white jet upped the intensity of his purr again, his lips vibrating against the platelets surrounding Windswept's valve.

It was all more than Windswept could take and he keened, his back valve working Drift hard until he grasped what his first mate wanted. Then he gave himself over to the pleasure fully, his frame stiffening, his fingers entwined with Drift's, Windswept cried out his pleasure and his love of his mates.

Wing purred, lapping up the lubricant that flooded out of Windswept's valve, over his faceplate. With one last, long lick, the white jet slowly withdrew, licking his lips. He glanced over his shoulder at his creator before bothering to fish out a rag to wipe his face.

GoldenRod's cooling fans could be heard whirring, and Titanium's armor was fluffed out to let out the heat from underneath. Neither had moved otherwise, though.

"Wow," was all the golden mech could say.

"We aren't done," Drift rumbled, kissing and nuzzling Windswept until the blue mech felt strong enough to move, revealing a fully pressurized white spike crafted with gold and red, slick with Windswept's lubricant.

There was a dual purr from the direction of the couch, GoldenRod's warm tenor purr in harmony with Titanium's rough baritone as the pair settled back down to watch.

Wing eagerly climbed over Drift, leaning down to deliver a fiery kiss, his hands already gliding over white armor.

"My lovely white jet," Drift growled into the kiss as he moved Wing's hips over his own and brought them together with a hard thrust-pull that drove him fully into his mate.

Wing's back arched, the white jet moaning into Drift's mouth. White wings flared out, fluttering for attention, performing an intricate little flutter-wiggle as Wing shifted his hips slightly.

"Yessss," Drift rumbled, one hand moving up to indulge the wings begging so prettily while his other hand held and guided white hips in the rocking thrust against his own. His mouth found Wing's throat, licking and nipping as their already high charge quickly built.

Wing rocked against Drift, leaning into the white grounder's hands, tilting back his helm to give Drift more access. His own hands ran over white armor, heading unerringly for the most sensitive spots. The sound he made was half purr, half moan.

It didn't take long before Drift's hands moved, taking full control of their movements. His growls became deeper, more forceful along with his thrusts until he roared with his entire frame and drove his spike deep into Wing to fill his mate with hot transfluid and the intense charge of his release.

Wing's keen of overload was almost a shriek, breaking into static at the end. Excess charge crackled all over his frame, over his wings and down his plating, leaping off onto Drift and onto Windswept. It took a few kliks for him to come down from that incredible high, slumping against Drift, venting heavily as both his mates petted him, helping them all come down.

"Love pushing you that high," Drift rumbled into a nuzzle, pure affection wrapped around a fierce pride that he could satisfy his mates so well.

Only after they had all calmed down did they realize that Axe had Dai Atlas pinned against the floor and was thrusting hard into his very reciprocating mate's frame.

Dai Atlas seemed to have forgotten that they weren't alone. His hands were roaming over his mate's frame, going for all the hot spots. 

On the other couch, GoldenRod was kneeling between his mate's legs, fingers buried in Titanium's hip joints, working the bigger mech's spike with lips and glossa. The gold mech would prefer to be riding that spike, but he was still held by Drift's "no overloading till the game ends" dare. One of Titanium's hands rested on the golden helm, the other leaving dents in the arm of the couch.

Wing blinked at the others, settling himself next to Drift and just watching as Windswept made himself comfortable across the white mechs' laps, clearly amused by the chain reaction they had started.

Axe was the first to overload. His bellow rattled the entire room as energy crackled between him and his mate and he filled the larger mech's valve with hot, slick transfluid.

The larger blue mech answered with a howl of his own, helm thrown back until the tip of his crest struck sparks off the floor. Energy sizzled across his armor, along his twitching wings to dance around the spread vanes at their tips.

Not long after, Titanium's body stiffened, the oldest of the group letting out a roar as he too reached overload. His fingers tightened on the arm of the couch, leaving deep dents. His gold-armored mate slid up his leg to deliver a fiery kiss, then slid back onto the couch next to him, squirming slightly uncomfortably, flaring out his armor slightly in an effort to cool himself.

Once everyone was actually paying attention again, Wing glanced at his mate, then grinned wickedly before focusing on GoldenRod. "So, now that you're the only one wound up ... what would make you lose control?"

The gold mech snorted. "As wound up as I am from watching everyone else and from what he was sending me through the bond..." he glared at his mate briefly, "...it wouldn't take much at all."

Titanium smirked at him. "You shouldn't have accepted that dare. In this company, admitting that you'd fallen into a tub of neon-green paint wouldn't have been that bad."

"Not nearly as bad as not getting relief until we all pass out," Drift laughed.

GoldenRod glowered at him, his spoiler hiking up to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It wouldn't work on Drift, but he did it anyway. "You're evil."

"I know," the other grounder smirked. "And you chose your fate."

The gold mech muttered something under his breath, glowering at Drift a moment longer. Then a poke in the side from his mate, right into a particularly ticklish spot on the armor seam, sent him leaping sideways right off the couch, landing in a heap on the floor.

Dai Atlas snickered, picking himself off the floor and settling back onto the other couch with his mate snuggling in.

Getting to his pedes, GoldenRod resettled himself, turning back to Drift. "So, Drift, what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"

Deep red optics rolled as he relaxed with his mates, a spike of tension easing at a nudge from Wing and a reminder that 'embarrassing' did not always mean 'humiliating' in the sense that Drift thought.

After a bit of memory digging, he finally answered after a long drink of _Wing's_ high grade. "I screamed like a rookie the first time Wing took me flying."

Dai Atlas chuckled. "I'd wondered what that noise was..."

Drift glanced at him with a half-smirk. "I'm shocked you didn't recognize airborne grounder vocalizations."

"It's been quite a while since I've heard them, and the high pitch threw me off a bit, as well," the Knight leader pointed out.

Titanium laughed out loud. "You should've heard Sideswipe the one time he tried jet judo on me and ended up clinging on for dear life in the high atmosphere. Screamed like a femme."

Drift snickered. "I thought he was immune to heights with that jet pack of his."

"My altitude ceiling is higher than his; where I took him that jet pack of his wouldn't work. It was a _long_ way down," Titanium replied with an evil grin. "He never tried jet judo on me again."

"You mean he actually learned _not_ to do something?" Drift laughed brightly, well familiar with the red hellion of the Ark's crew. "Must have been a first."

"I have a _lot_ of experience drilling lessons through stubborn helms," the silver and purple mech replied. "Ask Atlas here. I was one of the mechs who trained him when he first showed up, too. He eventually went officer, though, while I went line. But for a while I outranked him."

"And Atlas still snaps to attention out of reflex when Titan uses his 'drill sergeant' voice," GoldenRod snickered.

Dai Atlas grumbled. He'd only done that once since the older mech had joined the city, and it had confused most of the other Knights.

Drift, however, had laughed hard when he'd gotten the vid and did so again. "That was priceless. So ... Axe. Not counting that courting flight, what's the hottest interface you've ever had?"

The black mech pondered for a moment, poking his mate in the wing when the larger blue mech offered a few suggestions through their bond, along with a chuckle. "One time he had to go off on a long mission, and I had to stay behind on another. When he got back, the very first thing he did was pounce on me and drag me to his quarters to 'get reacquainted'."

Dai Atlas made a deep rumbling purr. "I remember that very well."

"Anything special, or just from eagerness?" Drift chuckled, _very_ familiar with the later.

"It was _intense_ ," Axe replied, leaning into blue armor. "Everyone else quartered in the same area had to sleep with their audials turned off, as I found out later." He looked at Titanium for a moment. "Old-timer, what's the most embarrassing interfacing moment you've ever had?"

Titanium mock-growled at being called an "old-timer", then answered the question. "Goldie and I were in what we'd thought was a fairly secluded area, back on Earth. Bunch of human hikers spotted us, and of course someone had a video recorder. We did manage to make ourselves scarce and let the bosses figure out how to explain _that_."

"I'm sure you had to hide from Prowl for _vorns_ over that one," Drift laughed easily. "There is little he hates more than trying to explain to the organics that yes, in their terms, we are sexual beings."

"It was a good two and a half centuries before we dared venture anywhere Prowl could find us," GoldenRod agreed. "We heard later that he pitched a fit worthy of Ratchet about it."

Titanium chuckled. He glanced around the group, pondering who his next victim would be. "Wing, what's the oddest place you've interfaced in?"

The white jet hummed, thinking and snickering at the suggestions Drift offered of the various places the grounder had dragged him.

"Sorry love," he leaned over to nuzzle his white mate. "But that prize has to go Thorn. Back when the city was underground he took me against the roof of the cavern. Had me turn my engines off so it was only his that held us up while each thrust pressed me up against the rock."

Titanium lifted an optic ridge. "Never heard of that one before. But then, I've never been in an underground city before. How did all you airframes manage to keep from going insane?"

"I snuck out," Wing snickered. "Much to my creators' frustrations."

"Special protocols that anything with wings uploaded before we started building," Dai Atlas said quietly. "It didn't stop the desire, but it worked well enough to stop the need as long as they got to fly around the cavern some."

The two bonded ex-Autobots stared at the Knight leader for a long moment. "Would make sense... Though I imagine that after the city came to the surface, every mech with wings was in the air as quickly as they could get off the ground."

"Grounders didn't see daylight for the better part of another vorn," Axe nodded. "And the medics recruited anyone who with even minor programming skills to help with the backlog of 'get those damn protocols out of me' requests that came flooding in the moment it was announced that we weren't going back down."

"Things you can get away with in an all-volunteer unit that would never fly anywhere else," Drift shook his helm and glanced at the other two former Autobots. "If either side had that kind of dedication, the war would have been over with in the first vorn."

"Maybe. Or maybe not." Titanium shrugged. "Still, it would explain why the sky gets so full of wings now and then. And not just when I've got a pack of trainees up there." He took a long drink from his cube, letting out a deep purr as the high-grade hit his systems.

Drift was about to say something when a soft chirr from Wing stopped him. He ruffled his armor to settle it before nuzzling Windswept to soothe him.

"So, creator of mine," his golden optics locked onto Axe, "What's your endurance record?"

"Eight," the black mech replied proudly, puffing up. Dai Atlas chuckled at the display, sneaking his fingers under a fluffed plate to tease the circuitry beneath it and draw a moan of excitement from his mate.

"Who and how?" Drift lifted an optic ridge as his fingers stroked his own mates, excited by the prospect of such a story.

"Happened a very long time ago, and I was just drunk enough that the designations of my partners escaped me." Axe took a long drink of his high-grade. "I recall that there were three of them, though. By the eighth overload I was so drained I could barely move. Ended up spending two orns in recharge."

Drift rumbled. "Sounds like you have a _good_ time," he grinned at the big mech.

Axe grinned hugely. "Oh yeah. I had a _great_ time." He eyed the white grounder. "So, what was the best interface you ever had?"

"The best?" Drift hummed, then thrummed. "I'm going to have to go with the first time I allowed a full spark merge to happen."

Wing purred, nuzzling against his mate, humming happily. He remembered merging sparks just short of bonding the orn Drift had returned to the city, and many others afterward. He remembered the wonderful peace it had brought both himself and Windswept as well, that first time they had merged.

"Yes, that is always memorable," Axe shivered. It didn't matter how long he'd been bonded, how much deeper the merges were now, that first time he managed to trust a lover so completely was processor-blowing.

"Very," Drift agreed, turning to GoldenRod. "What's your favorite thing to do to your mate?"

"Get him as riled up as I can before he turns and pounces on me," was the prompt reply. "Bonus points if I manage to distract him from a boring report or some other official nonsense." He grinned cheekily, curving to show off the sleek lines of his frame. "Sometimes I can get him completely wound up without ever laying a finger on him."

Wing snickered. "Oh, I bet that is fun. The winding up and the pounce."

"Windswept's good at that too, though he usually waits until we're off duty," Drift grinned cheekily, flooding the bond with reassurance to his blue mate that Windswept had never done anything wrong.

"It's all in the approach," GoldenRod agreed. "Sometimes it can take a while to get him really riled up, but it is _worth_ it." He shivered all over, giving his mate a look that hinted the older mech was in for some fun later. Titanium replied with a smirk of anticipation. The gold mech fluttered his spoiler at his mate, then looked at the quietest member of the group. "Windswept, what's your favorite trick for getting Drift all wound up?"

"I dance." Windswept answered from where he was sprawled comfortably across his mates' laps. "Works best on Drift, but I think Wing appreciates it too." He added, flicking the wing under the jet's nose teasingly.

"Oh, I very much do," Wing purred deep in his chest, but it was Drift's engine and field that reacted the most, flaring nearly as high and hot as when his spike was buried inside the blue jet.

Windswept smirked, clearly very proud of that ability, and the level he had managed to elevate it to. Blue wings fluttered again from the arousal coming off both his mates before Windswept got himself under control and focused on Axe. "So what trick works best on your mate?"

Axe laughed heartily and stood with a playful flourish. With the next step his entire frame seemed to change, taking on a coy angle as he looked over his shoulder at his already twitching mate. "This is what you like, isn't it my love?" he purred, his voice as low as it went and sultry.

The blue giant actually whined, hard-pressed not to pounce on his mate right there. From the other couch, GoldenRod and Titanium were watching with amused interest, and Wing was grinning at his creators.

"So much self restraint," Axe purred, deep and wanting. He upped the ante by stroking his hands down his frame all the way to his valve cover before sliding back up.

After all the centuries he'd been the Knight leader's bonded mate, he knew every one of Dai Atlas' buttons and just how to push them. With a throaty growl, the bigger mech pounced, pinning Axe down and fanning out his wings, his ruby optics barely a handspan from Axe's blue.

"Take me, my love," Axe moaned shamelessly as he pressed into the heaver frame above him, his valve cover slipping open.

Dai Atlas needed no urging, entirely forgetting that they were being watched with open interest. His spike almost sprang from its housing, the big mech sheathing it in Axe's valve with one swift motion. Bracing himself with one hand while he settled into a fast, hard pace, he buried the fingers of the other hand in a transformation seam along his black mate's side, leaning down to nip sharply at Axe's throat.

The smaller triple changer moaned, arched and rocked into the thrusts. His hands found wide wings to stroke and squeeze.

The larger mech's wings shifted higher, bringing more of their surfaces into reach. Engine and turbines were roaring, sending vibrations through his body and into his mate's. His glossa flicked over the energon line he'd bitten into. White fingers slid out of the transformation seam to wander up ebony plating to tease the seams of Axe's chestplates, gliding along the sensitive plating. His hips never faltered in their driving rhythm.

"Yesss," Axe hissed, moaning and trembling in the intense pleasure that was spreading all through his circuits. His valve tightened around the thick shaft filling and stretching it with such familiarity, working the sensors in both of them with the skill that only came with being intimate with the same lover for a very long time.

The response from his mate was a deep growl. Dai Atlas increased his pace slightly, shifting his hips so that his spike rubbed over a different set of sensor nodes. He could feel the overload building, energy starting to sizzle along his circuits. The blue mech pressed his chestplate against Axe's, his engines roaring.

Without hesitation Axe unlocked and spread his armor, offering his spark to its other half.

Blue armor parted, the blue-tinted white light of Dai Atlas' spark shining out, gleaming on cobalt and obsidian armor. Threads of spark energy reached out to wrap around answering tendrils rising from his mate's bright blue spark. Dai Atlas hummed softly, tilting his helm to capture Axe's lips in a deep, thorough kiss, leaning down to press his chest against the black mech's, bringing their sparks into contact.

It was the end of awareness for a long, blissful moment. The longest mated couple were utterly oblivious to what they had triggered in their creation's triad.

This time it was Dai Atlas who roared in overload first, his back arching to drive his spike as deep into Axe's valve as it could possibly go, his helm thrown back. Energy cascaded through his frame, crackling over his plating like lightning, leaping off onto his mate and snapping at anything that happened to be close enough. It was more than enough to drag a very willing Axe over the edge with him.

Wing was entwined with both of his mates, oblivious to anything else. 

On the other couch, GoldenRod was squirming, rubbing his thighs together, lubricant leaking out of his valve. The gold mech was desperate for release. He looked over to meet Titanium's burning scarlet gaze, the silver and purple mech watching him intently.

"A metacycle of Drift's chores ... or wait it out?" Titanium asked gently.

The gold-armored mech whined. He glanced around the room, trying to judge how much longer the others were going to last. GoldenRod was inclined to wait if it looked like the game might end soon, though Titanium would be in for it afterward.

Drift's roar mingled with Wing and Windswept's keens, rattling the room even as Dai Atlas and Axe tried to recover from their spark merge overload. There was no way any of them would manage much longer.

"I will wait," the gold mech finally decided, squirming restlessly. "But afterward, by the time I am done with you, you'll be in recharge for two orns and walking funny for another orn after that!"

Titanium gave him a Cheshire grin. "I look forward to it."

Axe got a wicked grin on his face as he and Dai Atlas made their way to the couch. "What, exactly, are you going to do?" he asked GoldenRod.

GoldenRod leered at the black mech. "He's been teasing me through our bond since Drift gave me that dare. I'm the only one here who hasn't overloaded yet, so I have a _lot_ of excess charge to work off. Not sure of the specifics of what I'll do _yet_ , but he's going to be completely worn out by the time I'm through."

"I want vid," Wing chirred with a laugh. "It'll be good."

GoldenRod tossed his helm slightly, grinning at the younger mech. "We'll see..." The gold mech gave the triad a saucy wink.

Titanium's response to that was half groan and half chuckle. "This is going to be interesting." He looked over at Dai Atlas. "Mind if we crash in one of the spare sets of quarters in the Citadel? With as much high-grade as I've had, I don't trust myself to fly or drive back out to our apartment without running someone over or flying into a building. And I doubt Goldie will wait that long, anyway."

"Not at all," Dai Atlas chuckled and databurst a location and door code for them. "I'd hate to be the reason you're arrested for indecent behavior."

The older mech nodded. "Thank you." He chuckled. "And I doubt even being arrested would stop him. I know my mate, and he is one determined mech when he wants something." He leaned back, his wings dropping into a lazy position.

"And you have no resistance to him worth speaking of," Dai Atlas snickered.

Titanium laughed, his bright ruby optics glowing. "Can you tell me honestly that Axe _doesn't_ have you wrapped around his little finger? Because if you can, then you're deluding yourself."

"I'm not delusional," Dai Atlas snorted. "I know full well what he's capable of."

GoldenRod snickered, then looked over at Windswept. "Can you show us the tricks you use to get your mates all worked up?" His optics glowed in hopeful anticipation.

Drift's engine roared in anticipation, even though he'd just overloaded.

"Oh yeah, do," Wing cooed into a hungry kiss.

"That's not a truth question." Windswept laughed from where both of his mates were prodding him eagerly. "Good thing I was thinking about taking a dare anyway."

Just to see what someone would try and get him to do. Not that he needed a terrible lot of urging to dance, only a little reassurance. ~You don't mind?~ He asked softly across the bond, needing to know even if with others present he only ever danced for them.

~We don't mind,~ both sides of the bond responded with a wave of reassurance and desire-saturated encouragement.

The small mech purred, kissing them both in turn. "The one from the other night?" He asked softly, optics bright now.

"I would like to see the rest of it," Drift admitted as he drew Wing against him. "We'll try to actually watch the _entire_ dance this time."

"I think GoldenRod might be the only one to object if you can't." Windswept laughed softly as he stood and gulped the rest of his energon, waiting a moment as the energy started to hit and steady his frame.

He looked at Dai Atlas and Axe. "Do you have a sound system?"

"Of course," Axe grinned, sending a databurst with the access information.

It was a few moments work to set it as he liked it before Windswept turned around, gauging his floor space and finding it acceptable. The last thing he wanted, especially with this routine, was to run into something once he started moving.

He stepped to the middle of the space, all optics on him as the music started. For a minute he stood motionless, letting the music sink into his listeners before falling into motion, moving in a way that was almost as natural to him as recharge.

Wings flared, accenting each flowing motion and graceful movement as Windswept twist and turned. Light reflected off the golden accents, drawing and focusing attention as his hands slid over his own frame in suggestive gestures.

The bond was alive with _appreciation-lust-want_ that was directed completely at Windswept. Both his mates not only enjoyed watching, but enjoyed feeling through Windswept as well.

Their optics met for a moment, blue wings flaring fully open in display and invitation that they knew was for them. He loved every aspect of this- the motion and the music and the rightness of it all flowing together in perfection. Even more he loved performing for them, the approval and desire flowing across the bond something he still needed and craved as much as their touch.

Another sound joined the music, Windswept's turbines firing enough to lift him off the floor as he continued his dance with an added dimension.

Drift's black hands dug into Wing's seams, the arousal and _want_ driving him to do _something_ , but not quite at the point where he'd drag Windswept down.

The music sped up, and with the movements of the mech dancing, flowing into a demonstration impressive in such a small space and clearly meant to display the skill and grace of the mech performing.

With a final complex step the music settled, the blue mech sinking until he was just about the floor. Dark hands traced slowly over his frame, up his sides and across the seams of his chest, framing the marks that were the designations of his bonded, then touching and allowing all of the emotion to flow across the bond.

Drift moaned, his frame shuddering at the build-up of desire the performance had caused. That last move, the emotions over the bond, were what broke his resolve. With a deep growl he untangled from Wing and launched at his blue mate, catching the small triple changer in strong arms and pulling him to the floor and a passionate kiss that held nothing back.

There was a two-tone hum of appreciation from the couch GoldenRod and Titanium occupied, the gold mech shifting position for a better viewpoint as Drift pounced, optics bright with interest and amusement. Dai Atlas moved his legs out of the way, curling one under him. Axe chuckled, leaning into blue armor as he watched.

Wing watched, his own amusement whispering through the bond, riffling his wings against his back as Windswept melted willingly against his mate and into the kiss, purring softly but proudly at having managed to break Drift's control once more. 

The rewards were always worth the effort.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Fandom** : Transformers IDW AU with a dose of Bayverse and G1  
>  **Author** : gatekat, starsheild and ultrarodimus on LJ  
>  **Pairing** : Drift/Windswept  
>  **Codes** : AU  
>  **Summary** : Drift saves a life. He has no idea what he's just set off.  
>  **Disclaimer** : The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the [inspirations page](http://gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
>  **Notes** : nanoklik = 1/8 second; klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds; breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes; groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours; joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours; orn = 42 joor/13.02 days; decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years; metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years; vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years; century = 96 vorns/7968 years; millennia = 1056 centuries/101,376 vorns/7,944,096 years (7.944 million years)  
> [Thorn](http://switchxtrick.deviantart.com/art/Thorn-275112261) is the creation of [guttermech](http://www.furaffinity.net/user/guttermech)/[labrum](http://furaffinity.net/user/labrum)/[Kusuriuri](http://furaffinity.net/user/Kusuriuri)/[switchxtrick](http://switchxtrick.deviantart%20.com)  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter


End file.
